


Modus Broperandi

by strawberrymilano



Series: Modus Broperandi [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Puns, Blow Jobs, Character Turned Into a Ghost, College, Don't Worry Ryan isn't Dead, Enthusiastic Dick-Riding, First Kiss, Fraternities & Sororities, Jock!Ryan, Light Angst, M/M, Nerd!Shane, Nipple Play, Possession, Romance Novel Level Cheesiness, fratboy!ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24412123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrymilano/pseuds/strawberrymilano
Summary: Shane’s never had a bro bone in his body. Except, lately… Lately, whenever he sees a bro, he falls into natural bro behavior.It’s an out-of-body experience.Ghost!Ryan AU.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Series: Modus Broperandi [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880575
Comments: 180
Kudos: 352





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghoultown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoultown/gifts).



> Based on [this post.](https://neurodivergent-crow.tumblr.com/post/169555435056/a-few-days-ago-i-was-walkin-past-a-basketball)
> 
> Now with an AMAZING [moodboard](https://madameladycrimson.tumblr.com/post/643657601990656000/a-moodbood-for-the-awesome-fic-modus-broperandi-by) by [madamecrimson!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamecrimson/pseuds/madamecrimson)

Shane is a pretty chill guy. He gets along with people, for the most part. So it’s not like he doesn’t get along with bros. He even had some high school friends that were on the baseball team.

The thing is, though? 

While Shane is a laid back guy, he’s never actually been a _smooth_ guy. 

He’s the awkward nerd type. The stumbles into conversations with people he doesn’t know well, type. The can’t code-switch to save his life, type. 

When he’d taken that improv comedy class last semester, the professor had specifically told Shane that he’d needed to work on observation, because the only character he could play was himself. Any time he’d tried his hand at some other type of person, like a Nervous Nellie or a Surfer Dude, the scene fell flat. 

But for some reason, lately?

Lately, Shane has been weirdly clicking with the resident frat bro population. And it’s starting to seriously freak him out. 

-

It starts on a sunny day when Shane is strolling down Greek Street towards campus. His head’s in the clouds, with more than enough time to get to his next class. There’s the bouncing sound to his right, and a shout of, “Incoming swat!” 

By the time Shane turns to see it, his hands are already up and catching the basketball before it can smash him in the nose. 

Shane stares at the basketball he’s holding with disbelief. 

Shane glances up at the court. There are a few bros there, looking at him. 

“Nice squeeze, dude,” a bro in a neon snapback says. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

This is the part where Shane would usually stumble over some stilted, high-pitched rendition of bro-speak. 

Instead, his hands smartly dribble the ball, his mouth grins, and Shane says in a slightly deeper voice, “Nah. No harm, no foul, bro.” 

Then his arms shoot up and fling the basketball forward, right back into the hands of the neon snapback bro. 

“Chill,” the neon snapback bro says, clearly impressed. “You up to play? We could use a Big Man.” 

Shane’s stunned mind frantically thinks, _Class, I’ve got class,_ before his strangely independent mouth forms a regretful wince and replies, “Thanks, but you know how it is, man. Class in a few.”

The gaggle of bros groans, and a few nod their heads commiseratingly. “Sucks, bro,” the neon snapback bro offers. “But you ever wanna get some running, you know we got you up here at Delta Gamma.”

“Appreciate,” Shane’s mouth says, as his hand comes up to make the letter Y, shaking it from side to side. 

In response, the entire crew grins and raises their hands in the same Y shape, before turning away and getting back to their game. 

Shane blinks, and turns back to the sidewalk to head on over to class. 

As he goes, he stares at his traitorous hand, flexing it curiously. Carefully, he clumsily forms a loose Y with his fingers. 

It doesn’t look the same as it did before. 

-

Shane frowns down at his hands, barely clocking anything the TA is lecturing on about. He takes out his phone under the desk, shielding it from view by crossing his legs, and googles, ‘letter y wave.’ 

The results that pop up have something to do with graphs and periodic equations, so Shane figures he wasn’t specific enough. He changes his search to ‘letter y hand wave.’ 

A hand emoji making the letter Y pops up, so Shane figures he’s on the right track. He scrolls down. Apparently, according to Wikipedia, it’s a Hawaiian gesture called a shaka, and means ‘hang loose.’ Very popular surfer slang. 

Huh. Who knew. 

Not him, that’s for sure.

Shane puts his phone away and curls his fingers into a fumbling approximation of a shaka. 

It feels… unnatural. 

Nothing like earlier, when it had felt as natural as could be. 

Shane sits back in his chair and crosses his arms with a frown. That is just plain weird. 

-

It happens again at a dorm party a few days later. 

In the interim, Shane had pushed the shaka thing to the back of his mind, figuring that hey, maybe he’d just passively absorbed the whole hang loose thing from a movie when he was little and forgotten about it. It didn’t have to be a whole big thing. 

But then, Shane’s at a party with his friend Andrew, and a familiar-looking bro slides up to him and says, “Yo, Big Man!”

Shane takes another look, and it’s the neon snapback guy from the basketball court. 

Shane’s mind goes blank in some kind of shock, but his mouth seems to work on just fine without him. “Oh, hey, bro! Wassup.”

“Sup, bro. Name’s Jason. Jace for short.”

“Sweet. Call me Ryan. Ry for short.” Shane blinks. Where the hell did _that_ come from? Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Andrew giving him a funny look because, uh, why is he lying to this guy? 

Fuck if Shane knows. 

“Nice. See you on the court sometime, Ry.”

“For sure, tricks.”

With that, Jace steps away, seemingly satisfied, leaving Shane standing next to a flabbergasted Andrew. 

“Wassup? _Tricks?”_ Andrew says, looking about as nonplussed as Shane feels. “Who the fuck even are you.”

Shane can’t do anything but shrug helplessly and admit, “I don’t even know. But apparently I go by Ryan now. So. Uh. That’s a thing.”

Andrew watches him for a moment, brows furrowed, then shakes his head. “Uh, okay. Nice... fratsona, I guess? Ugh. Neither of us are drunk enough for this conversation to make any sense.” 

“You’re right,” Shane agrees. “I need to be a lot drunker, immediately.” 

He goes to the kitchen to pick up some punch, and tries to forget about the whole thing by drinking enough to knock out a man a foot shorter than him. 

-

That night, Shane lies in bed staring at the ceiling. 

Ryan. He’d said his name was Ryan. 

He’s never known any Ryans. 

Why would he even lie? Shane’s never given out a fake name in his life. 

Shane frowns. 

He brings a hand up to his face and contorts it into a stiff-looking shaka. It’s so forced, it looks like he’s got arthritis. And he’s been practicing and everything. When he’d done it that day near the basketball court, though, his fingers had fallen into place as easy as water flowing down a river. 

Yeah. This isn’t just plain weird - this is _very_ goddamn weird. 

-

The last straw comes a week later, after Shane has been religiously avoiding all things fraternity. He’s even been going two blocks out of his way to avoid Greek Street when he walks to class. 

Too bad all that effort is wiped away the second a couple frat bros sit next to him in a coffeeshop and throw him identical head tosses. 

His head tosses back in automatic response. 

“Hey, Ryan, right?” one bro asks, holding out a hand. “I’m Luke, this is Brad. Heard about you from Jace.”

“Yeah, call me Ry for short,” Shane’s traitor mouth says as he takes the proffered hand in a shake. “Sup.” 

“Sup,” Luke and Brad chorus. Luke continues, “Look, Ry, Delta Gamma is on the lookout for fresh meat, y’know, and you seem on the level. Like, real cool, you feel me? So - if you wanna pledge us next semester, well, I’m not saying you’d be one of the old balls right away, but you wouldn’t be a rimjob either. Straight into cruising active, bro. None of that hazing shit.”

Shane doesn’t know what the fuck all that means, but his body apparently does, because his eyebrows shoot up and his mouth says, “Whoa, dude! You serious right now? That’s some bid, and it’s not even rush.”

Luke grins. “You’re a helluva dude, my bro. Word’s been shooting around the fratmosphere, and we wanna be sure to snatch you up before you’re stuck eternally in, like, Sig Ep’s weak-ass composite.”

 _What is even happening right now, I fucking hate this entire conversation,_ Shane’s mind screams. “Right on, right on,” Shane’s mouth says lightly after a pause. “Well, rad, dude, but, um. Lemme think on it.”

“Sure, bro,” Luke says agreeably, clapping him on the shoulder and backing off. “Take your time.”

“Yeah, man, no pressure,” adds Brad, clapping him on the same shoulder. “You got the rest of the semester. Tons of time to get your fratter on.”

They take off, which means Shane is left staring at the space where they’d been standing with his jaw dropped. 

-

“Some bid,” Shane mutters to himself as he paces his dorm room with his hands gripped tightly together behind his back. “Not even rush.” 

He doesn’t really know what a bid is, and he only vaguely knows what rush is, but he would _never_ have guessed rush was a seasonal thing. Or that it wasn’t happening right now. 

He stops in place. 

“What the fuck is going _on?!”_ he cries, gesturing wildly at the mirror, staring at his traitorous mouth that can apparently spit out things like ‘bro’ and ‘sup’ like they’re normal everyday filler words. 

“I don’t even want to be in a frat!” Shane exclaims. Then he frowns. “Do I wanna be in a frat? Secretly? Without me knowing about it?” 

He plops down on the bed and stuffs his head in his hands.

“I’m going insane,” Shane mutters. “I’m - I’ve got subconscious fratboy, and it’s terminal.” 

-

Shane’s always been pretty scientifically minded. 

So, he buys a snapback online. 

When it comes in the mail, he opens the package and gingerly puts the hat on the bed. It’s not ugly, he supposes. Nice colors. The forehead’s got the words _Five Beers Please_ embroidered next to a patch of Julius Caesar making a peace sign. Shane stares at it, waiting for something, anything, to happen. 

Nothing does. 

“Hmm,” Shane says. He picks it up and puts it on his head, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair is sticking out unkempt at the edges, but it fits okay. The overall image, though, is...

“Nice,” his mouth says appreciatively. 

Shane blinks, glancing down at his mouth. 

He… hadn’t been thinking nice. He’d been thinking _weird. Strange. Out of character._ Not _nice._ But his mouth had said nice. He’d seen it move in the mirror. He’d felt the sound rise up out of his throat. 

Shane’s legs wobble as he frantically backs away, tearing off the hat and tossing it across the room. His breath comes fast, and his back hits the wall. 

He slides down to the floor, watching his splayed jelly legs through glazed eyes. 

According to the science, Shane’s hypothesis was right. 

He’s got subconscious fratboy syndrome. And it’s apparently terminal - ending in full-on fraternity initiation. 

Shane is officially freaking the fuck out. 

-

“Andrew,” Shane says urgently. “I need you to tell me something. Do I seem like a secret fratboy type to you?” 

“Uhhh...” Andrew fiddles with his boba tea straw. “Well, I didn’t think so, at all, until that one party the other week where you busted out your Ryan fratsona.”

“I’m going crazy,” Shane says miserably. “Something weird is happening to me.”

“Well,” Andrew starts uncomfortably. “You know… Being a bro isn’t, fundamentally, a bad thing. Like... different strokes for different folks.”

Shane rubs a hand over his face. “Are you giving me the acceptance talk right now. For my inner fratboy. Because if so, uh. Please don’t do that.”

“You got it.” Andrew sips his boba tea. “You just seem - really torn up about it, and I’ve never seen you like this about anything. You’re always so laid back about stuff, so this is kind of… I don’t know. Unsettling.”

“Sorry,” Shane says, sipping at his own boba pathetically like the wretched creature he is. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Andrew says kindly. “Though, you could’ve picked a better time and channeled this new instinct last semester in improv class. Just saying, that fratboy in Versailles sketch would’ve really, pardon the pun, Ver _-sailed, bro.”_

Shane chokes on no less than four tapioca balls. 

-

He chokes on them all the way to the hospital, because the Heimlich didn’t quite do the trick and one of them got badly lodged down the wrong tube. Andrew had called 911, and they’d said to just take him to the ER as fast as possible, so Shane gets tucked into Andrew’s hatchback with his lips turning blue and wondering if this is how he dies. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” Andrew tries to reassure him. “Same thing happened to my brother, minus the amazing pun, and he’s fine. So. You’ll be fine too.” 

They pull into the ER reception. There’s a wheeled cot and a team waiting for them, so Shane collapses on the cot and lets his vision fade into stars. 

Five minutes later, a hand opens his mouth, some forceps are shoved in his trachea, the boba is forcibly removed, and Shane can breathe again. 

He takes a deep, deep breath, and his vision slowly restores. 

“Shit’s wild, dude,” Shane’s traitorous fratboy mouth croaks out. 

The unimpressed doctor standing in front of him drops the boba in the trash and the forceps on an equipment tray before saying, “Yeah, he’ll be fine. Nurse, take over for the release.” 

A very kind nurse goes over aftercare procedures with Shane as he fuzzily comes back to himself, and gives him a helpful printout as he leaves. 

Andrew’s waiting for him in the lobby. “You okay, Shane?” he asks as Shane moseys on over to him. 

“Fine,” Shane husks out in his hoarsest voice. “Throat hurts.”

“Yeah, buddy.” Andrew pats him on the back. “I’m sure it does. Let’s get you back so you can sleep it off, huh?”

“Sounds good,” Shane croaks out.

But before they get to the hatchback, Shane’s eyes catch on a grey car in the parking lot. His feet walk up to it, and his eyes peer inside. 

It’s just some Hyundai Sonata, and inside is a smattering of normal mess. The cupholders are full of half-empty water bottles, and there are papers and magazines on the floor. Some dog hair is on the seats, as well as a little pink chew toy that’s been beaten and torn up within an inch of its life. 

Shane doesn’t see anything he recognizes, and doesn’t feel much of anything looking at all this stuff, but for some reason, his eyes are suddenly welling up with tears he has to blink back. 

Then the moment is over, and he glances over to Andrew, who’s looking at him strangely.

“C’mon, we’re over this way,” is all Andrew says, before walking off towards his hatchback. 

Shane hesitates. Before he follows Andrew, he snaps a picture of the Hyundai Sonata’s license plate. 

-

So. 

Shaka. Ryan. Not even rush. Nice snapback. Hyundai Sonata. 

Something freaky is going on, and fuck if Shane isn’t gonna find out exactly what before he’s stuck in a frat he doesn’t want to be in for the rest of his college life. 

He searches the Sonata’s license plate online, pays the one-time lookup fee, and finds the owner to be one Linda Bergara. 

He looks up the name on Facebook, finds only one in the area, and scrolls through her public posts. 

Turns out, she’s got two sons. 

One of the son’s names is Ryan. 

“Ryan Bergara,” Shane says to himself thoughtfully, as if his entire world isn’t turning on its head at the discovery. 

He takes a short break, after that. You know, to stop himself from spontaneously combusting from all the crazy in his brain. He drinks some water. Decompresses. Screams into a pillow. The usual stuff people do when they’re convinced they’re going absolutely batshit insane. 

-

 _Ryan Bergara,_ Shane finally types into Google. 

He’s almost expecting an obituary in the paper. Instead, there’s a Facebook page, a popular Twitter account, and a thirst trap Instagram. 

All of the accounts have gone quiet recently, though. He checks the date of the last post - a shirtless mirror selfie with a big shining smile and one impressive arm flexed - and it’s from almost two months ago. 

Shane frowns. That’s weird. He scrolls through the thirst trap pics down to one with Ryan and his mom, Linda. She’s tagged, so Shane clicks through to her Insta account. 

The first picture that pops up is of Ryan in the hospital, intubated. 

A deep discomfort swoops through Shane’s stomach at the sight. It doesn’t feel right, after seeing all those Instagram selfies of such a handsome, happy guy, to see him at such a huge low. Shane reads the caption: _My baby’s still fighting! Keep him in your prayers. #WakeUpRyan_

Shane shuts his laptop and rubs his face. 

Ryan Bergara is a coma patient. 

Well, shit. 

-

“This is crazy. I’m crazy. I’m a crazy person,” Shane mutters to himself as he looks at the various flower bouquets in front of him. A woman glances over at him with wide eyes, and unsubtly shuffles out of the supermarket aisle they’re sharing. 

Shane thinks she’s got the right idea, to be honest. If it weren’t happening to him, he’d probably have the same reaction. 

But he goes back to staring at the bouquets. They’re colorful, expensive, and seem endlessly complicated. Shane doesn’t know much about flower meanings, but he’s sure if he looked it up every single one would have a different nuance. He doesn’t want to insult anyone, here. Accidentally give the bouquet you put on gravestones, or something awful like that. 

Eventually, he bends down and picks out a small, round succulent plant from a lower shelf. The tag reads Echevaria Spp. - Dudleya. It says it’s native to California and can live up to a hundred years, which are both good things. Running a finger over one of the rounded leaves, Shane sighs and figures that at least the Bergara family will get a sweet, smooth plant out of dealing with a crazy guy like him. 

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” Shane says, inspecting the faded red edge of the leaf points. “But oh well. Here goes.”

-

Shane takes an Uber to the hospital, and surreptitiously checks for the grey Hyundai in the parking lot. 

It’s not there. Perfect. 

He goes into the main entrance for the ICU with his succulent plant, and walks up to the receptionist with a smile. “Hi, I’m looking to visit a friend named Ryan Bergara? He’s a coma patient here. Never visited before, so I’m not really sure how things work with… all this.”

The woman glances down at his succulent plant and then smiles back. “Sure. Let me sign you in and I can give you that room number. ID, please.” 

There’s a sign-in? Shane raises his eyebrows. So they’ll know who he is. Okay. It’s not like he’s actually committing a crime. He’s just… being kind of a creep. Worst case scenario, restraining order. He shrugs and takes out his wallet. “Sure. Driver’s license okay?” 

“That’ll be fine.”

The process only takes a minute, and then Shane’s got an official nametag with Ryan’s room number printed on it. 

He takes the elevator to the fifth floor, and tracks down the room. 512. 

Shane sucks in a breath, tries to ignore the blaring alarm going off in his brain that this was too easy and there will be horrifying consequences for this, and lightly knocks on the door. 

There’s no answer. Obviously. 

He carefully swings the door open and edges inside. He quickly shuts it behind him, hoping beyond hope that nobody decides to visit today. 

It’s not a bad room. Light is streaming in from the large windows, and flowers fill up almost every single surface. Ryan is lying on the inclined hospital bed totally motionless, except for the soft rise and fall of his chest. 

He’s… beautiful, actually. 

Shane is stuck in place, just watching him. It’s one thing to see a few thirst trap pics on Insta. It’s another to come face to face with that person, and realize, wow. They’re actually real. The planes of his face shimmer in the sunlight. His eyelashes flutter like the wings of a butterfly. 

Shane shakes his head to dislodge the creepy trance Ryan’s gorgeous sleeping face has sucked him into, and goes over to the window. There’s a small spot on the ledge that’s just perfect for his little succulent. He places it down gently, as if to not wake up Ryan with the sound, and nudges it into the back corner for the most sun. 

“Bye, little guy,” Shane whispers, looking down at his little peace offering and running a finger over a smooth, rounded leaf one more time. He steps away and sits in the visitor’s chair. 

“Hi, Ryan,” Shane murmurs, eyes averted from Ryan’s person. It lets him feel a little less creepy. “Um. I haven’t - I don’t know what I’m doing here, actually. Or what I’m going to do about… all this. I just… I knew I had to see you. In person. To know.” 

Know what, though? 

That’s the question, isn’t it. 

Shane sighs. “I don’t know what I’d thought I’d know. That you’re real? That my brain isn’t just making all of this up? It was a stupid idea, and an even stupider plan. But here I am. And… there you are.” 

Shane glances up at Ryan’s face. Yep, there he is. Unfairly beautiful face and all. 

He was only meaning to glance up for a second, but Shane can’t help but stare again. 

He shakes his head. “God, I’m such a creep.” If he was gonna do the moral thing, he’d probably just leave now. Not get involved. Let the Bergaras live their lives without the added headache of Shane’s insanity. 

But come on, was he really gonna come all the way here and do nothing? 

He’s always been of a scientific mind. Experimental. And with the snapback - nothing had happened until he’d put the thing on his head. 

Shane hesitates, then reaches out to brush the edge of Ryan’s hand with his fingertips, just as gently as he’d brushed the rounded edge of the succulent’s leaf. 

“Hi, Ryan,” Shane breathes. 

Ryan’s hand is warm and tan. Shane curls his fingers around it, and holds it carefully with his eyes closed. He can feel the pulse running through it, can feel the minute twitches of Ryan’s pinkie as he sleeps. 

“I know it’s kind of dumb,” Shane murmurs, eyes still closed. “But I - sort of had this idea that the second I touched you, you’d just - wake up.” He snorts. “I know, I know. That’s movie logic. This is real life, and in real life, I am probably just some off-the-wall schizophrenic projecting things onto you.

“But I had to _see,”_ Shane confesses, opening his eyes and looking at Ryan’s still face beseechingly. “I had to try. What kind of person would I be, if I didn’t at least try? I’d think it was my fault, if you never woke up. I don’t need that kind of thing on my conscience.” 

He smiles self-deprecatingly. 

“But, surprise surprise, nothing happened. Not even a single fratboy comment out of me, either. Just - nothing.” 

Well, not nothing. 

“Okay, not nothing,” Shane amends. “I got to see you. I brought you a little succulent plant. Dudley-uh, or something. I got to prove to myself that this wouldn’t work.” 

Well. He hasn’t tried everything.

Shane squeezes Ryan’s hand, and dares to look up at his lips. “There is one more thing to try, though,” he says speculatively. He scoffs at his own ridiculousness. “I’m - god, I’m such a fucking creep.”

Shane wets his lips. “Just - a peck. Just to confirm - um, that it’s not that. Experimentally. Scientific method, and all that jazz. Jesus Christ, I should check myself into a center after this,” he mutters, and leans in to kiss him. 

Ryan’s lips are soft, but dry. Shane tries not to lose himself in the sensation, and pulls back as quickly as he’d gone in. 

Shane leans back, studying Ryan carefully for any changes. 

His head’s rolled a little on the pillow in Shane’s direction, but nothing else. His hand is just as warm and relaxed as it was before, held in Shane’s. His breathing rate is exactly the same, too. 

A strong wave of disappointment rolls over Shane. Much stronger than he’d expected. It’s real life and not a fairy tale, but still. Something in Shane had almost believed… well… 

For a second there, Shane had almost believed it would work. That he’d kiss Ryan, and Ryan would wake up, and Shane would stop randomly dipping his toes in the frat pool. That all his little problems would be solved, and he wouldn’t have to feel guilty over creeping on a poor guy in a coma, because the guy would be awake and healthy and back to posting super hot shirtless pics on Instagram that Shane could creep on, respectfully, at a distance. 

Shane sighs deeply. Yeah. He was just being delusional. 

He reluctantly unwinds his fingers from Ryan’s hand, and stands up. He’s got to get out of here before someone comes in to visit. Someone who actually knows Ryan, and loves him for who he is, and who Ryan knows and loves back. 

Shane lets his eyes linger one more time on Ryan’s face, and runs one last tender finger over the crest of Ryan’s knuckles. 

“Bye, little guy,” Shane says softly, and leaves. 

He makes sure to close the door behind him. 

-

Shane isn’t usually the sentimental type. He gets over stuff quickly, and doesn’t let the past unduly influence his moods or actions. 

But he does keep following Linda and Ryan Bergara on Instagram. Just in case. He knows now that it wasn’t ever down to him to save Ryan, or anything crazy like that, but he still cares if Ryan wakes up or not. 

He checks Linda’s page for updates every day for a week, before he decides to just let it come to him. If it happens, it happens. He won’t spend extra time worrying down to the second. 

If he checks his Insta feed a little more often than usual, well. That’s his business. 

-

Things go on as normal. He goes to class, he goes to parties, he does his homework sometime in between. He calls his mom just to hear her voice. 

You know. Normal college student things. 

Nothing sad about it. 

-

He’s at a bar with Andrew and a few acquaintances when it happens. 

A big group of bros come in all at once, rowdy and ready to party, and Shane can’t help but notice it’s Delta Gamma. Luke, Jace, and Brad are there, as well as maybe ten other guys Shane vaguely recognizes. He turns away hurriedly, but Luke spots him. 

“Hey, it’s Ryan!” Luke hollers to the group. 

“Say what? That’s my boy, there!” Jace says, elbowing through the crew to get closer. “Let me through, dudes!”

They part for Jace like the Red Sea, and Jace comes up to Shane with a huge grin on his face. Luke and Brad follow him over, as the rest go on to claim a large table for their group. 

“Long time no see, bro!” Jace says enthusiastically. 

Shane blinks, and his mouth moves, but nothing comes out. His brow furrows. “Uhh,” he finally manages, weakly. “...Yeah?” 

Jace cocks his head to the side. “You seem different. You got a brother, dude?” 

Shane brightens at that, because he actually does have a brother, and suddenly that mundane fact is about to get him out of hot water without actually lying. “Yeah, actually. I do have a brother. I’m Shane.” 

“Oh, man!” Jace bellows out a laugh. “Sorry, dude! I thought you were him, man. Must be weird, having some guy you never met before just - come up and start talking to you like he knows you. My bad, bro.”

Shane tries not to show that he feels personally attacked by that statement. It’s essentially exactly what he’d done to Ryan in the hospital, and for some reason, Jace saying it makes it much more pointed to him. 

He shrugs. “It’s… no big deal. No harm, no foul,” he recalls.

“Huh. You are related!” Jace says, clapping him on the shoulder. “That’s almost exactly what your bro said, first time I met him. Weird, huh?”

“Very weird,” Shane agrees with a smile. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Luke chimes in. “Your brother’s dope, and so are you, man.”

Shane tilts his head. “Huh. Really?”

“Really,” Luke affirms. “I can tell. You’re chill as hell.”

“Agreement,” Brad says like it’s the final judgment. “Different vibe, for sure, but still down to chill.”

Luke nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I see it, bro. You should come by Delta Gamma sometime. Got a chill kegger you could hit up this Fraturday, no problemo.”

Despite himself, Shane feels strangely touched. “Thanks, guys,” he says honestly. “Appreciate it.” 

Then, out of some psychological hanger-on of being possessed by a total fratboy, Shane decides on an impulse to shaka. 

“Hang loose,” he says, jiggling his practiced shaka from side to side. The fratboys surrounding him beam and shaka it right back to him. 

“Right back atcha, bro,” they chorus, before they move on to rejoin their group. 

Shane smiles after them, weirdly glad to have gotten into this whole strange situation to have met them, before turning back to find Andrew staring at him with narrowed eyes. 

“Dropping the fratsona, I see.”

“Um. Yeah,” Shane admits. 

“Good for you,” Andrew says. “Seriously. Being yourself when making friends is infinitely better than putting on an act.”

“Huh,” Shane says. “That was actually… really deep, Andrew. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Andrew says airily. “I’ll be here all week.”

Shane shakes his head with a chuckle, and sips his drink. “Just don’t come up with any puns tonight,” Shane says. “I can’t afford the medical bills.”

“I’m affronted at the implications of that statement.” 

“Well, if the shoe fits,” Shane says flippantly as his phone buzzes with a notification. He ignores it. “Hey, let’s sign up for karaoke. Whaddya say, Andrew? Sing your heart out on the Titanic tonight, with me and Celine Dion?”

Then they’re bickering over song choices, with Andrew being especially intense about appropriate karaoke duet voice ranges, and things are finally normal again. He can breathe. 

Shane knows for a fact it’s gonna be a great night out. 

-

What Shane doesn’t know is that Linda Bergara’s newest Instagram post is a picture of Ryan sitting up, tired eyes barely half-open, with a weak smile on his face and a fat succulent sitting in his lap.

The text says, _Didn’t want to jinx it, but guess what guys! Ryan’s been slowly waking up more and more for the past week! Goodbye #WakeUpRyan and Hello #RyanWokeUp! We love our boy and truly appreciate all the people who supported us during this hard time, with visits or with flowers. Thank you thank you thank you. We love you, and Ryan will see you all soon._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan wakes up from his coma. 
> 
> He tries to ignore it, but he can't help feeling like he's forgetting something.

Ryan’s been dreaming for so long. 

When he comes out of his coma, it takes a long time to convince him it’s not a dream anymore. 

He doesn’t really remember the process of waking up. It takes two weeks for him to start really remembering things from the last time he was awake, and even then, he fades in and out on clarity. Every time he wakes up, Ryan feels like he’s forgetting something huge. 

It helps to hold his mom’s hand, listen to his family talk, and run his fingers over the smooth, waxy surface of a desert plant someone important left for him. The nurses call them grounding activities, and if Ryan needs anything, it’s to feel more grounded. Whenever he falls asleep now, it feels like he’s falling into pieces that he’ll just have to pick up all over again later. It would be terrifying, if he had enough energy to feel big emotions like that. 

He’s never slept so much and felt so exhausted in his life. 

-

The third week, when Ryan’s a little more cohesive, he has a major freakout. 

Apparently it’s normal after waking up from a coma, but he feels embarrassed about it later anyway. Yelling nonsense about being a ghost and trying to escape from his hospital bed when he can’t even run is not a good look on him, and he feels especially bad about how it makes his family feel. 

He apologizes to his mom and dad, who were there at ground zero. His mom smiles sadly, shakes her head, and say, “Honey, we love you. You don’t have to apologize. Just don’t do it again, okay?” 

He promises. 

When Ryan does feel freaked out a day later, he remembers his promise, and he doesn’t act on it. Instead, he just asks for his favorite plant. 

He falls asleep rubbing a fat, pointed leaf with the pads of his fingers, and thinking the vague, disconnected dream-thought of, _Bye, little guy._ When he wakes up, the plant is still sitting in his lap. 

Ryan stops feeling so paranoid, after that. 

He doesn’t know why that is, exactly. Things just seem more… permanent. 

-

It’s almost the fourth week when he finally starts to feel like himself again. The haircut helps a lot. So does the doctor’s order for Ryan to start PT, so he can rebuild his atrophied muscles. 

Between PT sessions, he obsessively looks up gardening facts on his little Echeveria succulent, carefully watering it only when the dirt is totally dried and only keeping it in the sun during the morning hours. It’s growing bigger already, and Ryan is really proud of it. 

It’s like they’re working on growing stronger, together. 

He’s on a call with his brother Jake when he shows it off. “See my little guy?” Ryan brags, holding the pot up to the camera. “He’s almost twice the size he was when I got him. I’ve got photographic evidence and everything.” 

“Wow,” Jake says. “I’m amazed you haven’t killed it yet.”

“Hey!” Ryan objects. “Major offense, dude! It’s a him, not an it. And I take care of him just fine.” 

Jake laughs. “Right, right. Have you named, uh, _him,_ yet?”

“Nah. Not yet.” Ryan’s been thinking about it. Usually he’d post a poll on Twitter or something, but he’s not allowed on social media yet for his post-coma mental health, and nothing he can come up with by himself sounds better than the simple phrase, _little guy._ “I don’t know, man. I’ll have to think it over. Wouldn’t want to give the little guy the wrong name.” 

“Of course not,” Jake says agreeably. “So, hey, how’s rehab going? Can you benchpress your hospital bed yet?”

Ryan rolls his eyes with a grin. “Not quite, bro,” he tells Jake, and starts to go over the detailed schedule his therapist has put together for him. 

-

A few days later, inspiration strikes.

Jake isn’t impressed. “Ryan Junior,” he says flatly over the phone.

“Junior for short,” Ryan adds excitedly. “June for short-short. But yeah. Seems perfect. Because he’s my little guy, so why shouldn’t he _literally_ be my little guy?” 

Jake sighs. “It’s… fine. Why not.” 

“Exactly,” Ryan says smugly. “Hashtag yolo.” 

He pats Junior companionably to the sweet sound of Jake’s pained groan. 

-

When his parents visit that weekend, his dad mentions that Junior might be overgrowing the tiny pot he came in, and that Ryan might consider buying a bigger pot to transfer him into. His dad knows tons about gardening, so Ryan spends the rest of the afternoon bouncing ideas off of him and researching the most ideal pots possible. 

In the end, Ryan chooses a freaking rad pot. 

First off, it’s three times the size of the last one. Second, it’s got a dope-ass drainage tray so nobody will accidentally over-water the plant and turn Junior to mush. Third, the customized design painted on it is awesome: sunglasses with croakie attachments looping around the back, with the text RYAN JUNIOR shaped like a smile underneath. 

Junior is gonna fucking love it. He’s gonna be a huge hit, when Ryan heads back to college. 

-

When it finally comes in the mail, his mom brings the pot and special soil to the hospital. She helps Ryan dig out the roots and carefully place Junior in his brand new home. 

“Do you think he’ll do okay with the move?” Ryan asks worriedly, when it’s all done and Junior is soaking up the sun on the windowsill in his new pad. 

“Honey, he’s a plant - he loves any sunny place where he can grow. And you did tons of research.”

“Yeah.” Ryan reaches out and caresses a rounded green leaf, up to its red point. “Hope it was, y’know. Enough.”

His mom watches him for a moment. 

“You really love that thing,” she muses. “Whoever got it for you really picked out a good one, huh?”

Ryan cocks his head. “You... don’t know who got it for me?”

“No, there was no note. Weird, too, since every other flower bouquet had one.” 

“Huh. That is super weird.” Ryan chews his lip. Now there’s a mystery - the mystery of the secret succulent man. He lights up with the zing of sudden purpose. “You still got all the notes somewhere?”

-

Turns out, his mom kept every single one of the notes, even as she threw out the flowers themselves as they dried up. So it’s easy for him to make a list of every person who gave him flowers.

Ryan types all the names into his phone. It’s only about seventy individual names in total, but it takes him hours to sift through the notes and type out the handwritten names. Much longer than he was expecting. The whole morning, in fact. 

By the time the last name is typed in, it’s time for lunch. 

When the nurse comes in to give him his tray of food, Ryan innocently asks them, “Say, how do I look up my list of visitors?” 

-

Reception emails him a copy-pasted Excel spreadsheet of all his visitors, organized by date. The bulk of the names are his mom and dad, of course, but the rest are people he can cross-check against the flower list. 

Ryan re-orders the spreadsheet by names instead of dates, and starts from the top. 

He cross-checks every single name, and every single name is on the flower list. 

All except one. 

“Hah. Shane Ma-dedge!” Ryan exclaims. Then he frowns. For some reason, that doesn’t sound quite right to him. “Ma-deedge? No, no. May-dedge?” 

Ryan looks the pronunciation up online, and nods. “Ma-day. That’s it. Shane Madej.” 

He stares at it on his screen. Why does the name sound so familiar? He doesn’t know anyone by that name from high school or from playing basketball. Even for the one week he’d been in college before the coma, he hadn’t met any Shane Madej’s. Ryan rubs at his temple. Hmm. Maybe he’s just some random guy his parents have worked with before. 

Still. He has successfully tracked down the secret succulent man, and that’s something. 

“Gotcha, Mr. Shane Madej,” Ryan says with a satisfied smile. “The succulent man himself, unmasked.”

He’s not sure what he’s gonna do with the information now that he has it. Send a thank you card, maybe? He’s weirdly sure that he has to do something with it, that something important is supposed to happen with it, that if he does something he’ll _remember_ \- but he figures he’ll just wing it later. 

Preferably after some sleep. His body’s not used to the rigor of research binges anymore, and it’s heavy from the strain. He’ll have to work up to it again. 

-

He doesn’t get to it, though, because the next day, five weeks after waking up from his coma, Ryan is discharged from the hospital. All of a sudden, he’s got a hundred other things to worry about, like packing things and co-signing forms. Doing something with the secret succulent man’s true identity slips his mind. 

When he leaves, it’s with his plant in hand and a big smile on his face. His dad takes a picture of him and his mom at the hospital entrance, and they all cry a little as they group hug it out. 

He’s officially allowed back on social media, too, which is lit. Those airwaves are about to get turnt up, with all the Ryan Junior posts that are about to hit it. 

His first post is a before/after selfie comp of Junior’s incredible growth with Ryan doing the shaka by his little plant side. 

He writes: _Out of a coma and into a rad friendship with this little guy! Dubbed #RyanJunior. Put some respect on his name! He’s been my dedicated gym buddy at the hospital, and he’s gotten way swole. #BeforeAfter #ToGymItIsToWinIt #SucculentsRiseUp_

Looking at the pictures, he can physically see the difference in both of them. Starting out, Junior was a shrimp, sure, but Ryan was almost scarily waif-like. Now, Junior’s twice the size and all glowed up in a whole new pad; in Ryan’s case, he’s beefed up to a normal human’s body. 

His physical therapist had said that since he’d been in such good shape pre-atrophy, he’ll probably regain most of his muscle mass pretty quickly. Still, it’s weird to see. Ryan’s gonna have to hit the campus gym a lot to get back where he was. 

He’s looking forward to it. 

-

College move-in day is stressful, a little bit because he’s almost the only one moving in during spring semester, but mostly because Ryan’s not actually allowed to lift any of the heavier boxes yet. He’s just stuck watching as his parents do it for him, feeling immeasurably guilty the whole time. 

But get moved in he does. He’s in a shoebox studio apartment, a block away from the gym and two blocks away from Greek Street. It’s the perfect location, even if it’s a little small. The only things Ryan really needs, after all, are a bed and a windowsill for him and Ryan Junior to sleep on. Oh, and a desk for homework. 

All the rest is just sauce on top. 

Ryan sits in the window ledge and takes a selfie with Junior, quad in the background, and adds, _All moved in! Ready or not, here we come! #YOLO #CollegeLyfe #Hyped #RyanJunior_

-

“We got this, little guy,” Ryan tells Junior that night, when he’s staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep despite his excitement. He cracks a yawn. “We totally got this.”

-

Spring semester classes start two days later, and luckily, Ryan can easily find his way around campus. 

It’s weird how everything already seems so familiar, down to the minutest local landmarks. But he’s not complaining - he gets to class a full half hour before it starts, which is nice. He chooses a seat near the window. 

The actual lecture is baller. The professor throws them the syllabus, says hello, then gets right to the meat of her class content. Ryan hasn’t been challenged like this for awhile, and he loves it. The whole time, he’s scribbling down notes and staring at the powerpoint slides with stars in his eyes. 

He’d missed this, more than he’d realized. 

-

Another thing he’d missed was the chance to get a bid from a fraternity before spring semester. 

Ryan’s been dying to be in a brotherhood since high school. When he’d started out last semester, days before the coma had hit, he’d been going to pre-rush events and checking out every frat on campus with aplomb. 

Now, he’s got another chance. Best be sure he’s gonna fucking take it. 

For some reason, his hazy memory seems to remind him that Delta Gamma was his first pick, so he walks down Greek Street in a beeline for that house. The letters are up on the door, so it’s easy to find. 

Play it cool, play it cool, Ryan silently chants to himself. He walks by the house with his hands in his pockets, pretending not to be staring out of the corner of his eye at every possible detail he can soak up from the lawn alone. 

They’ve got a full basketball court in their enormous driveway, Ryan notices. Fucking _sweet._

He takes a sneaky Insta selfie with the house in the background, and quickly posts it before he can overthink it to death. _Walking down #GreekStreet - these houses are trill as fuck! Can’t wait for pledging to start, #DeltaGamma looks sick. #CollegeLyfe #Selfie #NoFilter_

He’s got to come up with some kind of slick strategy to get noticed. 

-

Ryan changes his running route to go past Delta Gamma, looping around the whole block twice before he ends up at the gym. 

It’s a little longer than he’s used to, with his weakened body. But he figures if it gets him noticed, it’ll be totally worth it. 

-

About a week later, Ryan’s panting on a bench outside the gym, holding his water bottle to his head, when a familiar-looking dude in a blue jersey walks up to him. 

“Sick run, bro,” the blue jersey dude says. He’s hefting a huge gym bag across his body. “Hey, I seen you around. You got plans to lift?”

Ryan grins, sitting up. “Yeah, I’m gonna lift. Need a spotter?”

“Hell yeah, dude. I would love to receive your spotting prowess.” Blue jersey dude holds out a hand. “Name’s Luke. Luke Fremont.”

Ryan shakes it. “Sweet. I’m Ryan Bergara. Ry for short.” 

“Ry, huh,” Luke says almost speculatively. Then he nods. “Awesome.” 

-

“I’m over at Delta Gamma,” Luke huffs out as he goes through the reps on the barbell. “You affiliated?” 

“Nah,” Ryan says, trying to stay as chill and casual as possible as he spots, even though he’s been angling for this exact conversation since he changed his run a full week ago. “New to the scene, bro. Just moved in this semester.” 

Luke finishes up his set, and Ryan helps him clang the bar back into its rack. 

“Spring pledge for us Delts kicks off next Monday,” Luke says as he sits up. “You want a piece of that?”

Ryan tries not to look as fucking jazzed as he feels. “Hell yeah, dude! Sounds baller.” 

Luke smiles at him. “Come by the house this weekend, we got our last rush kegger. You can meet the guys, see if you want to take your bid.” 

“A bid, already? Sick!” Ryan exclaims. “You for real, bro?”

Luke’s smiles grows. “I’m for real, for real. I’ll text you the deets.” 

He stands and claps a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Your turn, dude. Stack the bar.”

Ryan tries not to beam as he changes over the weights on the barbell. 

-

Luke texts him the address and the time later that day. 

_Thx bro,_ Ryan texts back, chill as a cucumber. 

“Yes!!” he cries, throwing both fists up in the air in the privacy of his apartment. 

“It’s happening, my dude,” Ryan tells Junior as he waters him, careful not to spill any water on the leaves. “I’m telling you, man, this kegger is gonna be lit, and if I don’t make a fool of myself, I’m gonna so be pledging this semester.” 

He takes a pic of Junior in the sunlight, saying: _#RyanJunior’s feeling great. So far college is really meshing for both of us! #CampusLyfe #SucculentsRiseUp #ReadyToParty_

-

Ryan picks out his freshest kicks, his nicest jersey, and his dopest sunglasses for the upcoming party. No way Jose is he gonna be caught looking lame at his first rush kegger. He’s only got one shot to impress the upperclassmen, here. 

He heads over, and with every footfall, repeats in his head, _Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool, play it cool._

-

Delta Gamma is set to full throttle Bro Zone, by the time Ryan gets there at ten pm. 

The front lawn’s got a bar set up, as well as a wooden trellis strung with lanterns and fairy lights. All kinds of people are packed into the beautifully decorated lawn, talking raucously and drinking heavily. 

Pretty tight shindig. 

Ryan walks up to the bar and peruses his options. 

“Hey, my man!” a guy behind the bar greets him with. “You feeling some Peej?”

“Sounds dope, thanks,” Ryan says. 

The guy ladles some punch into a red cup and hands it over to him. “I’m Jace, short for Jason. You heard of Delta Gamma before?”

Ryan… likes this guy. It feels like he’s met him before. He flashes a smile. “Yeah, I heard of it. A guy named Luke told me to come by tonight. Hope that’s cool.”

“Ohh. You’re the blue chip rushee,” Jace says with the air of an enlightened man. “The one Luke’s been talking about. Ryan Bergara, right?” 

“That’s me,” Ryan says, blushing and bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Blue chip, though? Uh, I dunno about that...”

“You totally are, dude. Right, Brad?” Jace elbows the other guy behind the bar. 

Brad nods his head. “Yeah, man. Top of the bid list. ‘Specially since the Man Madej vouched for you.” 

Ryan blinks. That name. 

It can’t be. 

“Did you say… Madej?” 

“Yeah. The Man Madej, aka Shane? That’s our boy. He’s an honorary member, been chilling with us since last semester at our keggers. Trying to get him to pledge us, but the dude is so chill it’s hard to get him to commit. I heard three other frats are tryin’ to outbid us on him already.”

Shane Madej, the secret succulent man. Apparently he goes here, to Ryan’s college. And no less than _four_ frats are trying to match bids on this guy? 

Jesus Christ. 

“That shit sounds wild, dude,” Ryan says honestly. He’s never heard of a dude that cool. “Is he here?” 

“Tonight? Uh, lemme check.” Brad disappears into the crowd for a moment. 

Ryan’s skin is buzzing. If Shane Madej is here… He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do. He’s _got_ to meet him. He feels like he’s so full of questions, he could burst. 

Like, why did you vouch for me? I don’t even know you. I don’t think we’ve ever even met. 

Or, why aren’t you pledging? Apparently all the frats are fighting like dogs over your bid.

But, most importantly... 

Why did you give me a succulent when I was in a coma, and disappear? How did you know I existed? How did you find me? 

Who even _are_ you?

Ryan waits, trying to hold everything he’s feeling in, and sipping at his cherry-flavored PJ. Then, shuffling through the throngs of people hanging out between the fairy lights with their red cups, Brad comes back. 

Ryan holds his breath. 

“He’s not here tonight,” Brad says with a chagrined smile. 

Not here. Okay. 

Ryan swallows a lump of disappointment. 

“Oh well,” Ryan says, pasting on a smile. “Next time.”

“Yeah, for sure, for sure.” Brad tilts his head at Jace, who nods and makes a shooing motion. Brad grins. “C’mon, Ryan. Lemme give you a tour of the place.”

-

The Delta Gamma yard and mansion are both totes mcgoats the tops. Not that Ryan didn’t already know that. Throughout the night, he ends up having a great time, and meets a ton of friendly people. 

Still. 

He can’t help but wish Shane “The Man” Madej had been there. 

Ryan figures, hey. The guy will be at the next one, for sure. 

-

He’s not. 

Ryan tries not to seem too down, tries to keep his energy up for the party scene. He’s a pledge now, after all, and he has to show all the brothers he’d be a good fit. 

And he mostly does okay. They play paintball with glow-in-the-dark paint and a blacklight, which is fucking awesome, and then get trashed out of their minds. So it’s actually a pretty easy night to forget about stuff. 

He posts a picture of him and a bunch of other pledges, making funny faces into the camera with glowing paint splashed all over themselves. _Us #DeltaGamma pledges got messy AF tonight! #Paintball #YOLO #HavingABlast #CollegeLyfe_

When he stumbles back to his apartment, though, he has to admit to himself that, even with all the fun he’d had, what he’d really wanted for the night was to get some answers. 

He’s never been one to let things go, and Shane Madej is becoming one big mystery he’s gotta solve. 

-

Around 2 am that night, Ryan sits with Junior on the window ledge and pops open a beer. He’s got one foot propped up on the ledge, elbow balanced on the knee, and one foot dangling down as he stares out his window and down onto the quad. 

“Gonna take the plunge straight into Creepertown, little guy,” Ryan tells Junior, and clinks his beer with Junior’s ceramic pot. “Wish me luck.”

He chugs the whole can, and crushes it in his fist with a burp. 

“Here goes nothing.” Tossing the crushed can carelessly over his shoulder and onto the floor, Ryan googles the name Shane Madej, clicking on the related Instagram handle. 

Based on the picture that pops up? 

Yeah, the dude is _fine._

No wonder multiple frats are falling over themselves to get him in. He’d attract girls like crazy, cute smile like that. 

He stares at the photo for a totally normal amount of time. Then Ryan clicks through to his posts page - y’know, to creep - and sees the blue Follow Back button. 

Wait. 

That can’t be right. 

Instagram is saying that Shane Madej… follows him. 

Shane Madej, fine-as-hell honorary Delta Gamma, generous voucher of strangers, owner of a bid war between no less than four frats, secret giver of succulent plants, follows… Ryan Bergara, measly post-coma first-semester pledge nobody. 

Ryan frowns. 

Something’s weird here. He knows he’s missing something, something big. Something he knows, but just can’t remember. 

He’s too fucking drunk right now to pin down what, exactly, but… 

Yeah. 

Definitely weird. He’s getting to the bottom of this, _tomorrow._

-

He’s still hungover the next day when he texts Luke in a fit of desperation. 

_Hey man u got a # or a dorm room for the man madej? Been tryin to thank him for vouching for me, can’t seem to find him anywhere_

It’s a Sunday, and it’s only noon, so Luke and the rest of the guys are probably still out cold. He steels himself for an hour wait. 

He yelps when a text shoots back almost immediately. 

_Yeah bro, madej is over at mckinley hall. Got a single room on the fourth floor, dunno what his # is tho._

Ryan sighs in relief. _Thx Luke ur a real G_

_Np_

He guzzles an entire bottle of water with some Tylenol, throws on a random shirt, and grabs his phone. 

Then Ryan is out the door. 

Halfway down the hall, he stops dead. 

Shit. 

He can’t show up at Shane Madej’s dorm room looking like absolute shit warmed over. He’s got to look fly. The guy has four separate frats lusting after his bid, for god’s sake. He’s probably the coolest dude on campus, bar none. 

-

After a nap, a shower, a gargle, and about half an hour of fretting over what he’s gonna wear, Ryan’s finally ready to go. 

“Seeya, Junior,” he says as he swings the door shut behind him. It locks with a click. 

He’s a man on a mission, out to get some answers, and McKinley Hall is only two blocks away. 

He starts jogging. 

-

Getting into McKinley isn’t hard. He just chills outside on a bench across the street, pretending to read something on his phone, until someone walks by in a beeline for the front door. Then he hops up and follows at a casual pace, phone still out like he’s not paying attention, and they open the doors for him with their keycard as he trails behind them. 

Easy. 

Once he’s through the entrance, he takes the elevator up to the fourth floor. 

He gets out of the elevator, and stares at the rows of strange doors. Shane Madej could be behind any one of them. 

Ryan isn’t gonna be that dumbass who knocks on every single door in a hallway. He’s gonna do some recon, and know exactly which door he needs to knock on first. He goes up to a double room - clearly not Madej’s, since he’s in a single - and knocks. 

“Ugh, what, god,” an annoyed voice comes from behind the door. 

“Hey man, can you, like, help me out a sec?” Ryan asks, purposefully raising his voice a little bit, a subtle promise that if the door doesn’t open, things are about to get a lot louder. 

The door cracks open. A bleary eye peeps out at him. “What.”

“I’m supposed to meet up with Shane? You know, Shane Madej. But I guess he’s still asleep, not answering his phone. Probably hungover or something. Anyway, he told me his room number, but I can’t remember it. I was kinda drunk at the time. Can you help a dude out?” 

The eye squints at him. “You know Shane?” 

Ryan’s heart skips a beat. “Uh, I’m Delta Gamma. Course I know Shane.” 

The blond eyebrow above the bleary eye raises sardonically. “Course you do. That wild frattie boy, always making new wild frattie friends.” The guy sighs and rubs his eye. “Yeah, he’s down in 409. Raise some hell. Tell him Andrew sent you, and that this is payback.” 

“Uh, sure, dude,” Ryan lies. 

The door shuts. 

409\. Alright. 

Ryan can do this. 

-

He marches down the hallway with purpose, counting the doors as he goes. 405, 406. Then 407, 408. 

And finally, 409. 

Ryan stops outside the door, frozen in place. His heart is practically beating through his chest, and his whole body seems to be vibrating uncontrollably. 

Shane Madej is behind that door. 

Oh, fuck. 

Ryan closes his eyes, takes a big breath, and steels himself. He’s wearing his sickest kicks, and his coolest backwards cap. It’ll be fine. 

He knocks on the door. 

He waits, listening for any sound, any clue that Shane Madej is there. There’s no answer. 

He knocks again. Again, nothing. 

Ryan frowns. 

He knocks a third time. 

Still no response. 

Maybe he’s not there. Maybe he’s dead to the world after a crazy night of partying. Either way, he’s not coming to answer the door. 

Ryan sighs and turns away. Looks like he’ll have to try again some other time. 

He takes the elevator back to the first floor, jabbing the close button grumpily. Even though he didn’t actually meet Shane this time, it wasn’t a total waste of a trip. He knows where to find him now; he’ll get him next time. 

The elevator dings as he steps out into the first floor lobby. 

There’s a sharp intake of breath. 

He looks up, and staring right at him is Shane Madej, half-eaten croissant in hand. 

They stare at each other for a moment. 

Ryan’s eyes sweep over Shane’s long chinos, his flannel shirt, his stunned yet handsome face. Ryan’s skin buzzes with anticipation. Oh, he has been _waiting_ for this. 

“Shane Madej, I presume?” Ryan asks with a twinkle in his eye. 

Without a word, Shane drops his croissant and takes off running in the opposite direction, bursting out the dorm’s double doors and out onto the quad. 

Ryan’s jaw drops. 

“Hey!” he says indignantly, and runs after him. 

The dude is tall, for sure, and his long legs carry him pretty far, pretty fast. 

But Ryan, for all of his recent muscle weakness, has been running a few miles every morning for a month. It’s almost like he’s been training for this moment, in fact, because his body naturally shifts gears and goes into a full-on sprint. 

Shane turns a corner next to a brick building, lane dotted with trees, and Ryan whips around it to follow him. 

He’s gaining, handily. 

When Shane glances back, he yelps, putting on a final burst of speed, but Ryan knows it’s over. 

He snags Shane by the upper arm and hauls him to a stop, shoving him up against the nearest brick wall so he can’t get away. Ryan grabs Shane’s other arm, and presses that flat against the brick, too. His hands tingle at the contact. 

They’re both panting. 

“You,” Ryan pants out. “I’ve been looking for you.”

He looks up, into Shane’s panicked eyes, and - 

Wow. 

Shane’s… super fucking hot. His long nose, his sharp eyebrows, his thin mouth - it’s all working together, real well. He’d known Shane was cute from his photo, but damn. In real life? That just blows it all out of the water. 

Ryan licks his lips. He’s never been so attracted to anyone in his life. And he’s so _close._

“Hey,” he says, lowly, leaning in and flicking his eyes over Shane’s face, unable to settle on any one feature. “What are you, six-three?” 

“Six-four,” Shane says, equally as lowly. “Uh.” 

Ryan zeroes in on Shane’s pink lips. “Hmm. Six-four. Nice.” 

Their hard breathing is merging together. 

“I got you now,” Ryan breathes, pressing Shane into the brick a little harder for emphasis. 

“You sure do,” Shane says, sounding strained. “For the record, um. I’m sorry?”

“Hmm?” Ryan can’t focus. Not with Shane’s mouth right there. 

His hands move up from Shane’s upper arms to round over and above his shoulders, reveling in the way the muscles jump under his grip. 

“Ummnnn,” Shane groans. It sounds like sex. 

“Yeah,” Ryan says, and sways in even closer. “Can I kiss you?”

“What,” Shane squeaks out. 

“Mmm, wanna kiss you,” Ryan murmurs. “Can I?”

“I guess it’s only fair,” Shane says weakly, and Ryan knows that’s a yes, though he doesn’t fully understand what else it means. 

“Good,” he says, and brushes his lips against Shane’s, once, twice, three times. The hands that were on Shane’s shoulders slither up his neck and into his hair as Ryan pulls him down into his mouth, deeper, deeper, deeper. He tastes like creamy coffee and freshly baked bread, and Ryan loves it. 

Ryan hums into Shane’s warm mouth, pressing his entire body up against Shane’s, flattening him harder into the wall. _Stay right here,_ he thinks. _Right where I’ve got you._

He slides his mouth over Shane’s, over, and over, and over, relishing in how their lips catch and slip together, how his whole body feels like it’s been set on fire with all the sparks running through it. 

Shane _whines._

Ryan’s eyes whip open at the sound, unseeing, and his arms wildly wrap around the back of Shane’s neck to drag him down even closer. 

Shane’s hands come up to steady him as he falls backwards from the motion, and damn, are they big. 

Ryan can’t help but groan, and the sound makes Shane’s fingers grip a little tighter. 

“Yes,” Ryan gasps, in between kissing Shane like his life depends on it. “God, _touch_ me.” 

Shane stiffens, and grabs onto him even tighter, pulling their bodies totally flush again. 

“Yesss,” Ryan hisses, feeling them both hardening through their pants. 

He attacks Shane’s mouth again, relentlessly pushing up into him, before lightly biting down to his jaw. He slowly works his way from Shane’s jaw to his neck, reveling in the huge amount of real estate he can mark up. His hand wanders down Shane’s body, moving to the front of his chinos, as he keeps biting in tiny hickies. He squeezes. 

Shane makes a muffled sound, thunking his head back against the brick. His hands are still tight where they hold on to Ryan, as Shane grits out, “We’re - in public, we can’t - ”

Ryan freezes. 

Holy shit, he’d been about to - in _public,_ no less - 

He jerks back, completely separating them, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon and not half a block. 

Shane is staring at him, eyes dark. His breath is equally heavy. 

Ryan fights the urge to sway back into him, and just fucking go for it right there in the street. He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, to try to dislodge whatever crazy sex-trance The Man Madej has put him in. 

“Yeah,” Ryan agrees, about ten seconds too late. “Can’t - public.” 

“Yeah,” Shane echoes. 

“Shit, dude,” Ryan swears with feeling, pinching at his nose. “I’m - ”

“Don’t be,” Shane says instantly. “It was - ”

“You’re just so - ” 

“You too - ” 

_“God.”_ Ryan peeks up at Shane again, before quickly looking away. “Why’d you run?”

“I - I wasn’t, um,” Shane hesitates. “I thought you’d - tracked me down.” 

“I did track you down,” Ryan points out. 

“Sure, but.” Shane runs a hand through extremely tousled hair. Ryan watches it, mesmerized, before tearing his gaze away. “I didn’t know if - I thought you’d be angry.” 

“About what?”

Ryan watches in fascination as Shane brings a hand to his bitten-up neck to rub at it. “I thought - because of the plant. I thought you’d be angry that I was a stalker, or something.” 

“Hnn,” Ryan manages, entranced by Shane’s hand on his neck, touching all the tender spots Ryan had just made. “Stop doing that, I can’t concentrate when you’re doing that.”

“Sorry.” Shane sheepishly takes his hand off his neck, and lets it awkwardly hang down by his side. 

Ryan takes a deep breath, and tries to focus. 

“I didn’t think you were a stalker,” Ryan says. “I didn’t know what you were, but if anything, _I’m_ the stalker - showing up at your dorm and basically mauling - but that’s not the - okay. Okay. So you ran. Fine. I assume that’s the same reason you avoided the Delta Gamma keggers?”

Shane nods. 

“So then why’d you vouch for me? With Delta Gamma, I mean.”

Shane shrugs uncomfortably. “I - I just - you wanted it. To pledge. You said you did, on Insta. And I knew those guys, so.” 

“So you recommended me,” Ryan finishes. “Without ever even meeting me. Just because you knew I wanted to pledge Delta Gamma.” 

“Yeah,” Shane admits. “I mean, I knew they’d love you.”

Ryan _has_ to kiss him again. Just a little one. He swoops in and steals a peck on his lips, before backing up again. 

Shane looks a little dazed, and reaches up to touch his lips. “Mhunh,” he says unintelligibly. “Uhhm. Yeah.” 

Ryan tries to force down a smile. “And why aren’t you pledging? From what I hear, you’ve got, like, four frats hounding you with bids.” 

“Don’t want to be in a frat,” Shane says firmly. “Not for me. And I don’t know where you heard that, but I’ve only gotten one other invitation. And anyway, I think the second one only asked me because the first one asked me, and it’s like, this whole big thing they’ve got going on, trying to poach people from Delta Gamma.” 

“Huh. Wild shit, dude.” Ryan’s going to have to report that back to the guys. Sounds like a conspiracy to cut down DG’s membership. But wait. Ryan has to focus. “But okay. Um.”

Here comes the real stuff. The stuff Ryan’s been dying to ask. Ryan glances down at the ground, then back up at Shane, beseechingly. 

“Why _did_ you bring me a plant? How did you know I even existed?” 

Shane closes his eyes, and shakes his head with a sigh. 

“That’s - ” Shane stops. “It’s - you’ll think I’m batshit insane.” 

“It’s okay,” Ryan says. “Whatever it is, I’ll believe you.” 

Shane opens his eyes and stares at Ryan like he’s never seen him before. 

“I’ve had this feeling, ever since I woke up,” Ryan tries to explain. “This vague feeling, that I’m forgetting something. Something huge. And whatever it is, you’re a part of it. It’s the same feeling that told me to find you, that told me you were important. And it turns out, that feeling was right. So whatever you say happened, I’ll believe it. I’ll believe _you.”_

Shane’s eyes are wide and watery. 

Wordlessly, Ryan holds out a hand. 

Shane stares at it, then at him. 

“C’mon,” Ryan says, wiggling his fingers. “Let me get you another croissant. Then you can tell me exactly what it is I’m forgetting.” 

Shane smiles, and takes his hand. “Deal.” 

They walk towards the coffeeshop together, hand in hand, fingers tangling together. 

The anxious purpose that’s been hammering in the back of Ryan’s brain since the coma broke finally quiets. 

He’s found Shane. Whatever comes after is just… sauce on top. 


	3. Chapter 3

While Shane is a pretty chill person, by all accounts, he can say that right now, sitting in a coffeeshop next to the unfathomably sexy Ryan Bergara with a brand new croissant in his hand, he is so incredibly _unchill_ that he’s somehow looped around and come out the other side looking as chill as can be. His screaming consciousness is hanging out somewhere three feet above his head as he dissociates from his body, and he tastes exactly nothing as his hand mechanically brings up his croissant to his mouth for a bite. 

His mouth. Which is still a little tender. From when Ryan Bergara kissed the bejeezus out of him. 

Shane mindlessly stares into the void, which turns out to coalesce in a very nice oak floorboard. Somewhere in his periphery vision sits Ryan, who is entirely too bright to look at while Shane is busy completely dissociating from reality. 

“Oh, I saw you followed me on social media earlier,” Ryan says, unconcerned, scrolling on his phone. “Lemme just follow you back real quick.” 

He presses some buttons, and Shane’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Well, he hears it buzz. Can’t feel it. Shane’s arm automatically lifts to raise the croissant to his mouth again, and again, he tastes nothing. 

Two months ago, Shane had illegally snuck into a hospital, kissed this guy on the lips, while he was _in a coma,_ and snuck out. Now the guy’s sitting right next to him, totally awake, and expecting him to spill everything. 

His tiny little human brain can’t handle this kind of whammy, if he’s being honest. It’s like his mind has gone on strike, and now? No thoughts, head empty. 

He thinks this kind of thing is what happens when people go into shock. 

“Huh.” Shane finishes off the croissant, and wipes his fingers on a napkin. “I think I’m in shock.” 

“Word?” Ryan leans onto the table with his elbows, clearly interested. “What’s it like?” 

“Like I’m,” Shane struggles to string together some sense-making words. “Uhh, watching a movie of myself from my eyes? I guess?” 

“Whoa,” Ryan breathes. “That’s… kind of awesome. I mean, it sucks, don’t get me wrong. But also? Kind of awesome.” 

Then he scoots his chair a little closer as his voice drops into an undertone. 

“So, like, _Shane,”_ Ryan says, and the way he says his name has Shane’s floating consciousness slam uncomfortably back into his body with a fissure of heat, his eyes flicking towards Ryan almost against his will. God, it’s like a moth to a flame. Now that he’s looked, he can’t _stop_ looking. “I know you’re majorly shocked, and stuff, so feel free to blow me off if you wanna shelve this for later, but like, dude.” 

Shane’s stupid horny brain is caught on the phrase _feel free to blow me_ while he stares at Ryan’s mouth, so he misses his social cue while Ryan waits for him to respond. 

He clears his throat. “...Yeah?” 

“What am I forgetting?” Ryan says, hushed. “What happened?” 

“Well, uhhh,” Shane tries. “We’ve already established that you’ll think I’m insane, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s been clearly established. I won’t, though. I promise.” 

“You say that now,” Shane warns. 

Ryan just shakes his head with a chuckle in response, his white teeth flashing in a gorgeous smile. 

“I think...” Shane hesitates, crossing his arms. There’s really no way to say this that doesn’t make him look like a complete fucking lunatic. Might as well just get it out. He mutters, “Somehow, you... possessed me. Like a ghost. When you were in your coma.” 

Ryan freezes. 

His eyes go _wide._

This is it, Shane knows. Nice meetin’ ya, see ya never. You really are batshit insane, aren’t cha. 

_“Whoa,”_ Ryan breathes instead, his wide, shining eyes guileless as they stare up at Shane in awe. “Actually, that makes _so much sense.”_

Uhh. 

What? 

Shane’s mouth gapes as he tries grappling with _that_ response. “Really?” 

“Really.” Ryan looks lit up from the inside, from how bright his eyes are shining. “I’ve had some weird things that’ve - well, we can get into that later. What happened next?” 

“Uhhmm.” Shane is really thrown here. He hadn’t expected that kind of enthusiastic response, at all. Let alone the request to continue talking after using the words _possession_ and _ghost_ in a serious way. He’d figured it was a sure conversation stopper. “Next, I… found out it was you, after some… stuff happened, and… tracked you down in the hospital.” 

“And you gave me a plant.” 

“And I gave you a plant,” Shane agrees. Then he shifts uncomfortably. “I… held your hand, to try to, uh. Pass the spirit back over, or whatever. I didn’t think it worked, so. I, uh. Kissed you. Um. While you were sleeping.” 

“Classic Sleeping Beauty move,” Ryan observes, a little too gleefully. 

“Uhh, yeah. Anyway, it worked, maybe, because you woke up sometime later - I saw it on your mom’s Insta. And that’s it.” 

“Huh!” Ryan eyes him speculatively. “What was being possessed by me like? Did I... do anything stupid?” 

Shane makes a face. “Mmm. Not stupid, but. Very fratty. I learned how to do this - ” He shakas. “ - and I made a large amount of fratboy friends. Also, some guys in Delta Gamma think I have an identical twin brother whose name is Ryan. So. There’s that.” 

“Jesus _Christ,_ dude!” Ryan chops the air with his fast-moving hands. “You’re saying I _spoke through you?”_

“Oh, yeah. Introduced myself as Ryan, Ry for short. The works.” Shane drops his voice a register. “Hey, bro, no doubt, no doubt, got that rush week keg stand party to hit, cuz I’m fo sho on the brodown, yo.” 

Ryan full-on barks a laugh. “Never do that again, that was painful.” 

“You got it.” Shane grins. “But yeah. That’s basically it.” 

“Ohhh, no no no. I’ve got, like, a _million_ questions for you.” Ryan is practically vibrating with excitement, now. “Dude, like - like - ” 

“Don’t hurt yourself, now.” 

“Fuck you, shut up,” Ryan laughs, but settles down almost immediately. “What were you doing when I fell into my coma? I think it was around… three or four in the afternoon on Friday, September 6.” 

Shane blinks. “I… have no idea. Let me check my calendar app.” He gets his phone out and scrolls all the way back to the date, checking his class times. “Looks like I got out of a class in Saint Hall at 3:15, and walked over to my next class at the Newman Building.” 

“Whoa.” Ryan’s eyes are wide again. “So you must’ve walked right past 13th and Oak, huh?” 

“I must’ve,” Shane agrees. 

“That’s where I had my car accident!” Ryan says triumphantly. “Hit my head, passed out in the ambulance, didn’t wake up! And then you walked right on by!” 

“Jesus, a _car accident?”_ Shane’s heart practically flips in his chest as he futilely checks Ryan over for injuries he logically knows Ryan doesn’t have anymore. “I - I didn’t know. Sorry.” 

Ryan waves it off. “Whatever, whatever, do you know what this _means?”_ He spreads his hands and smiles brightly. “You must be my soulmate!” 

Did he just say _soulmate?_

_What._

“Uhhh.” Shane scratches the back of his head. “Don’t know how to tell you this, Ryan, but. Soulmates aren’t, um, a thing. At least, not like that.” 

“They are,” Ryan says stubbornly. “They must be. Think about it. All the people that passed by that street that day? You know how crowded that area gets. And it was _you_ I got attached to.” 

“Random happenstance? Coincidence?” Shane huffs out a laugh. “I mean, it really could’ve happened to anybody who walked around the area. We can’t know for sure, because we don’t know how any of this shit actually works.” 

“I’m telling you. Soulmates.” Ryan points at him. “You and me. At the very least, we’re extremely spiritually compatible. Or else, like, the EMT would’ve gotten stuck with me instead. Also! The way we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other earlier? That level of sheer animal attraction? More proof!” 

Shane pulls a face. “Ryan...” 

“Tell me I’m wrong. A hundred percent wrong. Can you prove, with total, absolute certainty, that we are not soulmates?” 

“...No,” Shane admits sullenly. 

“See!” Ryan whoops. “There you go!” 

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Shane says, but Ryan isn’t listening. “It’s not - ugh.” 

“Soulmates,” Ryan states authoritatively, with the sunniest smile. “You and me, buddy.” 

“Unbelievable,” Shane says. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“But true.” 

Shane rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m going to have sex with you.” 

“Can’t resist the soulmate pull,” Ryan says knowingly, tapping the side of his nose, the little shit. “That sexy, sexy spiritual compatibility.” 

“Jesus Christ.” Shane facepalms, if only to hide his growing smile. “You’re so annoying. Let’s get out of here before I throttle you.” 

“Kinky,” Ryan notes, which only makes Shane groan with an eye roll of epic proportions as they stand up and start heading towards the door and out onto the street. “I’m down. Your place or mine?” 

“Whatever, I don’t care,” Shane says, frustrated, already dangerously close to macking on Ryan right where he stands. Who knew that arguing over stupid impossible shit would get him so hot? Not Shane, that’s for sure. “Which one is closer?” 

_“Jesus,_ Shane,” Ryan breathes. “Um. Your place.” 

“Right, then.” Shane grabs Ryan’s hand and pulls him along the street at a quick pace. “My place it is.” 

“You got it,” Ryan says, following along, turning his hand over to fold their fingers together. 

The two of them hurry back to McKinley, hand in hand. 

By the time they’re in the elevator, they’re already buzzing with unbearable sexual tension. By the time Shane kicks his room’s door shut behind him, they’re making out, Ryan’s snapback is on the floor, and Shane’s flannel shirt is half-unbuttoned. 

“Fuck, I hate buttons,” Ryan mutters, making Shane chuckle. 

“Here, let me - ” Shane leans back and wrenches the hem of his shirt up and over his head. 

Unfortunately, the shirt gets stuck there. 

“Fuck,” Shane huffs, annoyed, but Ryan laughs and helps it come off the rest of the way. “Thanks.” 

“No problemo, dude,” Ryan says, before he rips his own shirt off in one smooth movement. 

Shane’s mouth _waters._ “Holy _shit_ \- ” 

Before he can say anything else, Ryan is back on him in a wet, open-mouthed kiss, pulling Shane along by the hair as he walks backwards towards the bed. 

He falls back on the bed with a bounce, and Shane follows him down, not breaking the kiss the entire way. He brackets Ryan’s head with his forearms, propped up on his elbows, pressing his hips down into Ryan’s. 

“God,” Ryan gasps between kisses, clutching at Shane’s hair. _“Yes.”_

Shane hums his agreement. 

Unfortunately, just as he starts kissing down Ryan’s neck towards his chest, fully intent on moving much, much lower, there’s a loud knock on the door. 

Both of them freeze. 

“Shane,” Andrew’s suddenly extremely annoying voice comes through the door. “You in there?” 

“Go away, Andrew,” Shane calls over his shoulder. 

“Some guy was looking for you, earlier. Said he was Gamma Delta, or whatever.” 

“I know,” Shane says, just as Ryan corrects, “It’s _Delta Gamma,_ dude.” 

“Oho!” Andrew says, gleeful. “Looks like he found you, then.” 

“Fuck off, Ilnyckyj,” Shane huffs. “I’m busy.” 

“You sure are,” Andrew says silkily. “Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt you and your frat bro friend getting intimate.” 

“Thanks,” Shane says a little suspiciously, because he knows that tone. 

“Or should I say,” Andrew continues serenely. “I couldn’t bear to break up... the _bromance.”_

Ryan and Shane groan, perfectly simultaneously. 

“That was awful,” Shane complains. 

“So bad,” Ryan agrees. 

“It was spectacular and you know it,” Andrew sniffs, indifferent to their eternal condemnation. “Anyway, enjoy the sex. See you later, Shane.” 

“Seeya, Andrew,” Shane says, and shares a look with Ryan. 

They wait until his footsteps disappear down the hallway, before they break into chuckles. 

“Figures,” Shane says, half-smiling. “Um. Where were we?” 

“Somewhere in the middle,” Ryan says, half-smiling back. 

Then his eyes go dark, looking at him, and Shane knows exactly what he’s thinking, because he’s thinking it too. The sense-memory of them not even a minute ago, pressed up against each other, furtive, desperate, burning hot. 

“Whaddaya say we try to make it to the end?” Shane says, his voice suddenly a little deeper, and the little half-smile on Ryan’s face grows into a full one, almost too bright to look at. 

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, and pulls Shane down into a deep, fierce kiss. 

Oh, they make it there, all right. 

A few times. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I said this was the last chapter... what I meant was... 
> 
> Okay, okay, there's one more chapter coming.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane’s not a Delta. No, really. 
> 
> Or, five times Shane denies being a Delta Gamma, and one time he doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! This chapter's rating jumps from T to E! The boys have pretty explicit sex! Check the tags for deets. 
> 
> PS I know next to nothing about frats, I just googled the basics and made up the rest into my ideal version of what a frat should be. So. Yeah. Definitely not real-world accurate.

Shane honestly does not know how he got to have this life. 

Seriously. He is having the _best_ fucking time. The universe is just letting perfect things fall into his lap. 

Like Ryan, who is currently enthusiastically grinding on him. Shane’s hands clutch at Ryan’s hips, scrabbling over sweaty skin for some purchase. 

“Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me,” Ryan chants with a frenzied look in his eyes. 

“Okay, okay,” Shane laughs breathlessly. “If you insist.” 

“Oh, I insist,” Ryan says darkly, reaching down to grab Shane’s cock in his hand to line himself up. The head breaches as he continues, “I fucking insist - _fuck,_ never gonna get used to that.” 

He easily slides down the rest, still wet and loosened up from the last fuck. Which must’ve been, what? A half hour ago? Shane can’t be expected to keep track of the time, not when his brain is literally melting out his ears. 

Ryan sighs when he’s sunk down all the way, thighs splayed across Shane’s bony hips and knees planted on the bed. His eyes flutter shut, and Shane can’t do anything but watch the sunlit planes of Ryan’s face as they contort in blissed-out ecstacy. 

“You’re beautiful,” Shane whispers, bringing a hand up to brush his knuckles across Ryan’s stubbled cheek. “The most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.” 

Ryan’s dark eyes open, wild and laser-focused on him. Hungry. 

Then Ryan’s lunging forward. 

Shane lets out a muffled “Oomph!” when his back hits the bed, Ryan’s mouth covering his in a hot slide. 

“You can’t just,” Ryan pants out in between fierce kisses, _“say_ stuff like that, Jesus!” 

“What’re you gonna do about it,” Shane says, gasping a tight _“fuck,”_ when Ryan shifts back to sitting upright and Shane’s sheathed cock shifts along with him. 

“Well, I was _gonna_ have you fuck me into the mattress,” Ryan says flippantly with a manic grin and slightly crazy eyes, teasing him with the slightest rock of his hips. “But now I think I’ll ride you ‘til you cry.” 

“Hnnmmmuh,” Shane intelligently responds. 

Ryan raises an eyebrow. “Unless you’ve got any objections?” 

Shane shakes his head furtively. 

“Great. Glad we agree.” 

“Mmmyyyeah,” Shane replies weakly, as Ryan grabs his bedrail, lifts himself up with a determined expression, and _slams_ back down. “Shhhfffuck!” 

“Love it when you go all incoherent, big guy,” Ryan says with a grin, before lifting up and slamming back down again. “Mmm, so good. _God,_ I love this.” 

I love _you,_ Shane doesn’t say, because he knows his dumb mouth would slur it all up, and you’re not supposed to say that for the first time during sex, and it’s probably way too early to say it only two months into a relationship anyway. 

Doesn’t keep him from feeling it, though. 

Ryan’s rhythm speeds up, bit by bit, and soon, Shane is crying out completely inarticulate noises that all mean, _I love you, I love you, I love you._

“C’mon,” Ryan pants, muscled arms flexing as he undulates up and down like a fucking champ, “C’mon, c’mon, come in me, big guy,” and Shane can’t take it anymore. 

His large hands tighten on Ryan’s waist, and his hips snap up roughly. 

“Aah!” Ryan exclaims, eyes dropping to half-mast. “Fuck, _yes,_ Shane...” 

Shane thrusts up wildly, again, again, and again, just as Ryan thrusts down, and then Shane’s locking up and coming deep inside Ryan, feeling deeper in him than he’s ever been before. 

Shane groans, and his fingers slowly slip from their indents on Ryan’s waist down to the crux of his thighs and ass. 

Ryan doesn’t stop riding him, though. He rides Shane through every shiver he can wring out of him, and then some. 

“God,” Shane chokes out when the feeling tips over from the easy haze of post-orgasm straight into over-sensitivity. “You - you weren’t kidding, huh?” 

“Nope,” Ryan grunts out, eyes fading in clarity as he vigorously fucks himself onto Shane’s spent cock in short bursts. “Til you cry.” 

His muscled arms start to shake, which lets Shane know he’s getting close. It won’t be long now. 

“T - torture,” Shane gasps out. The best kind. A particularly good thrust makes his eyes roll back in his head. His fingers scrabble at Ryan’s sweaty thighs as he twitches through the over-stimulation. “Mmnnuh, Ryan - ” 

Then, Shane’s eyes actually start tearing up. 

“Ryan, I’m - I - ” 

A tear leaks out the side of his eye, and down to his ear. 

Ryan sees it, and swears. “Fuck, Shane, touch me, quick - ” 

Shane hurriedly licks his palm, and gets a large hand on Ryan’s weeping cock. He only gets to pump it twice, before Ryan is coming in spurts all over him. 

“Shaaane,” Ryan wails, his entire body wracked with the onslaught of his orgasm. His ass tightens almost painfully around Shane’s cock, which valiantly tries to come again. Shane squeezes his eyes shut with a wince, forcing a few more tears out. 

“Ry,” Shane says desperately. _I love you,_ he thinks helplessly. _I’m in love with you._

Then, Ryan’s hands slip off the bedrail, and he falls forward into Shane’s messy chest. His face mashes into Shane’s shoulder. 

For a moment, they lay there just breathing together. 

“Mmmm,” Ryan hums contentedly. “Nice.” 

“Yeah,” Shane says, though _nice_ is a major fucking understatement for what just happened, in his opinion. “Wow. You really did ride me ‘til I cried.” 

“Damn right I did,” Ryan says smugly into Shane’s shoulder. He turns his head to meet Shane’s eyes, smiling. “And you loved it.” 

“I definitely did.” Shane smiles back, then winces. “Uh. Gonna have to be careful pulling off, though. I think it’s gonna be pretty sore, now.” 

“Oh!” Ryan bites his lip. “I didn’t think about that. Sorry.” 

Shane laughs. “Don’t _apologize,_ god - ” 

“I’m just saying, I didn’t - ” 

“I know, I know. Just - take it easy.” 

“I will.” 

True to his word, Ryan gingerly lifts himself off Shane’s cock, stopping whenever Shane sucks in a sharp breath. 

When Ryan finally pulls off the head with a pop, Shane makes a weak noise that’s half relief, half regret that it’s over. 

“Okay?” Ryan checks. 

“Okay.” 

Satisfied that he hasn’t broken Shane, Ryan rolls off the bed to grab a hand towel. 

Shane looks over to the window ledge, where the sun is just setting and Junior the succulent is chilling out. He loves Ryan’s apartment. He loves Ryan’s plant. He loves _Ryan._ God, it’s like he’s bursting with it at the seams, all of a sudden. Shane closes his eyes, and listens to Ryan turn the sink on and off before padding back over to the bed. 

“Here, big guy,” Ryan murmurs, before gently wiping him down. 

“Mmm,” Shane hums, relishing the warm water and the soft, careful touches. His mind feels blissfully clear. “Thanks, Ry. Love you.” 

“No problem, big guy,” Ryan says easily, rubbing a comforting circle in Shane’s skin with the towel. “I love you too.” 

Shane’s eyes pop open. 

“Uhhh,” he says, a little too loudly. “I didn’t mean - ” 

Ryan’s hand stops, tense. “You didn’t mean?” 

“No!” Shane shoots up into a sitting position, grabbing Ryan’s hand and meeting his worried gaze beseechingly. “I meant it! I just didn’t mean to - to say it so soon!” 

Ryan relaxes. “Oh,” he says happily. “Okay. Well, that’s alright.” 

“Alright?” Shane’s eyes flicker over him apprehensively. “You sure? I didn’t say it too soon? Or at the wrong time? You’re not freaked out?” 

Ryan grins, flicking him in the forehead. “No, idiot. It was fine. Remember how I said it back?” 

“I - I remember,” Shane says, looking bashfully off to the side, rubbing his forehead with a growing answering grin. 

Ryan leans forward and kisses his cheek. “Let me clean you up, okay, big guy?” 

“Okay,” he says softly, and lays back down. 

When Ryan finishes wiping all the come off Shane, he goes to take a shower, leaving Shane to bask and moon over him in his absence. 

He does come back eventually, though, and flops over Shane’s half-asleep form with all the grace of a drunken seal. 

“Oof!” Shane chuckles. “Hey, Ry-guy.” 

“Hey, the Man Madej,” Ryan says, and cuddles into his side as Shane wraps an arm around him. “Love you, big guy.” 

Shane’s little grinch heart throbs with overflowing emotion. “Love you too, little guy.” 

Ryan grunts contentedly, nuzzling into him. 

“...So, since we love each other… You’re gonna come to the end-of-year formal as my date, right?” Ryan asks. 

“Absolutely.” 

“Good. It’ll be a blast. All the guys love having you around. You’re basically a Delta, at this point.” 

Shane cranes his head up and raises an eyebrow. “Am not. Take that back.” 

“Are too,” Ryan says, grinning. “But anyway, wear a nice suit. It’s formal dress, so you can go all out and wear a tux if you want to.” 

Shane whistles. “A tux? Fancy. Gonna be puttin’ on the ritz for you, baby.” 

Ryan laughs, and Shane cranes his head up even more just to kiss the crown of his head. 

“Puttin’ on the ritz,” Shane sings, and does a lone jazz hand. “Puttin’ on the ritz!” 

“Stop,” Ryan giggles, grabbing the hand and interlocking their fingers. “No ritzing until the formal, deal?” 

“Fine, fine. Deal.” Shane yawns. “Alright, sleepy times now.” 

Ryan yawns, too. “Sounds good.” 

They fall asleep in Ryan’s bed, cuddled up close and fingers entangled. 

_Love you,_ Shane thinks as he fades into dreams. _And you love me, too._

He wonders at the miracle of that, of how they fell together like two dust specks in this huge, unimaginably complex universe, of how they were connected by the strangest of things only to become the most normal of things. Lovers. What a weird, wonderful world, that this could happen. 

-

The next night, Shane’s still riding high on the revelation that Ryan loves him at the standard Saturday night kegger. 

“Wooo!” Shane cheers, holding up his empty beer bottle to the crowd around him. “Love is love is love, am I right!” 

They cheer back, with all their cups and bottles raised in toasts. They don’t know that Ryan told Shane he loved him last night, but all the same, it feels like every single one of them is celebrating it with him. 

“Hell yeah, Madej!” One of them shouts. Shane thinks it’s Jace, but he can’t be sure. “Love is love!” 

“Trans rights, bro!” Another one yells, and that starts the crowd up again, loud and boisterous. Someone starts up the chant, “Trans rights, trans rights, trans rights,” and Shane gladly joins in. It’s like being in a mosh pit, except crammed into a huge house with a bunch of drunk people he knows jumping around to a vague beat nobody is listening to. Pretty fun, all around. 

When the chant winds down, Shane wanders off to grab himself another drink out on the front lawn. He goes up to the new makeshift bar, the one he’d helped build, and peruses the options. 

He’s vacillating between another beer and a shot when a voice to his right says, “Hey, uh, I think they called you Madej?” 

Shane grabs a beer and turns, blinking down at the short guy talking to him. It’s a normal-looking kid, with a nervous smile on his lips and a graphic tee. Not the typical fratboy fare. 

“That’s me. Call me Shane.” 

The kid’s nervous smile settles a little bit. “Shane. Cool. My name’s… Tristan.” 

“Hey, Tristan. What’s up?” 

“Nothing much, it’s just, I’m a prospie, checking out campus for the weekend, you know, and...” Tristan hesitates. “Well, I just wanted to ask you what it’s like in Delta Gamma for, y’know, queer members.” 

Shane’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh!” Shane’s mouth goldfishes. “Uh...” 

Tristan seems to take this as a sign he’s overstepped, immediately putting his hands up in surrender. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I just assumed you were part of the queer community, I’m so sorry - ” 

“No, no, you’re totally right about that part, I’m bi as hell, baby,” Shane says with a smile. He taps the enamel bi flag pin on his jean jacket. “See?” 

“Oh! Okay.” Tristan relaxes. Then his brow furrows. “Then why…?” 

“I’m for sure _not_ a Delta,” Shane explains. “Never in a million years. I just date one.” 

“Huh.” Tristan looks a little confused, like he legitimately doesn’t know what to say. “Then...” 

“Here, c’mon, let me introduce you to an actual fratboy,” Shane says with a smile, throwing a companionable arm around Tristan’s low shoulders and leading him over to a cluster of guys. 

“Hey, I got a cool little prospie for you, Brad the Dad!” Shane says over the music. “His name’s Tristan.” 

“Yo, Tristan! My dude T!” Brad says, splitting off from the cluster to come closer into proper hearing range. He holds out a hand that Tristan energetically shakes. “Nice to meet you, man.” 

“Nice to meet you, too,” Tristan says, glancing over at Shane a little nervously. 

Shane chuckles. “It’s okay,” he says. “Brad is in the queer community too, a hundred percent.” 

“Absolutely, my dude! Out and proud!” Brad grins and flexes an enormous arm, the one that has a big beautiful trans flag tatted on it. 

Tristan goes bug-eyed at the tattoo, then stares up at Brad like he’s a god among men. 

“You’re trans too?” Tristan asks meekly. 

Brad’s obnoxious grin turns into a small, genuine smile as he looks down at Tristan. “My man! You know I don’t front. I’m straight up a hundo on that.” He glances over at Shane, nodding that he’s totally got this, and takes Tristan by the shoulders. “Let me take you under my wing, young padawan. Trans mentorship bout to _pop off_ up in here!” 

Tristan walks off with Brad, stars in his eyes, and Shane huffs out a laugh as they go. 

He fingers his bi flag pin, and wonders where Ryan’s ended up. He misses him, all of a sudden. Even though they spent the whole night last night together, and pretty much the whole morning. 

Taking slow sips of his beer, Shane wanders the kegger looking for him. 

He finds him drunk in the living room, cornering some poor schmuck over his coma theory. 

“So I was in this car accident, right?” Ryan asks doggedly, in that uneven yet well enunciated way that means he’s extremely drunk. “And afterwards, I fell into a coma, right? Don’t know _exactly_ when the coma happened, but guess what?” 

“What?” the schmuck says, totally sloshed out of his mind and barely hanging on to the conversation. 

“Who was walking by the day I got hit, and who did I have weird vague memories about when I finally woke up? You guessed it - it was _Shane._ My now-boyfriend. Who I love very much.” Ryan sticks a finger into the schmuck’s chest. “You got that? How fucking... crazy that is?” 

“Uh, dude,” the schmuck says. “What are you even saying right now? That he like, sucked your soul out?” 

“No, bro,” Ryan says impatiently. “I’m saying, I possessed him, like a ghost would. And I got theories why, man, and they’re gonna blow your mind. Like, trippy, spooky stuff. But spooky stuff that _actually happened.”_

“Whoa,” the schmuck breathes. “For real?” 

Before Ryan can continue to railroad the poor drunk schmuck, Shane steps in. 

“Shane!” Ryan says, surprised, his eyes lighting up. “Hi.” 

“Excuse him, he’s had too much to drink,” Shane explains to the gobsmacked schmuck, pulling a compliant but unsteady Ryan off the leather sectional and into the hallway, where it’s basically empty of partygoers. He collects a stumbling Ryan against a wall and leans down to murmur in his ear, “Hey, little guy. You know we said we weren’t going to tell people about that. You must be trashed.” 

“You’re my soulmate, y’know,” Ryan slurs. “I know you always say it’s stupid, but I really believe that. We’re just... compatible.” 

“Oh, we are _definitely_ compatible,” Shane says with a suggestive grin and waggling eyebrows, just to hear Ryan giggle. His nose crinkles up when he giggles, and Shane loves it. “But the other stuff - well, let’s just get you home, okay?” 

“Okay.” Ryan’s face fills with a blindingly sweet smile, looking up at him. “Love you, big guy.” 

Shane’s poor little heart seizes at that. No matter how many times they’ve said it, and it’s been a lot since last night, Shane still gets winded every single time. “Love you too, little guy.” 

Then he brushes the hair off Ryan’s forehead, and walks him all the way home. 

As they go hand in hand down the lamplit streets, Shane realizes that he’s never been so happy before. On a basic, human level, the inside of Shane right now is essentially the song Singin’ in the Rain. Almost anything inconvenient could happen to him, and he’d still be floatin’ on clouds, way up above. It’s like he’s hit some kind of love-induced nirvana. 

\- 

He’s still feeling it weeks later, even on the night Ryan gets fully initiated into Delta Gamma and bursts into Shane’s dorm room with all the vibrant, manic energy of a squirrel on crack. 

“Shane! I’m a pledge no more!” he announces the second he’s through the door, tackling Shane in a hug before picking him up and whirling his six foot four ass around like it’s nothing. “Full on pinned Delta Gamma brother, baby! Room in the house and everything!” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Put me down, Ry, I’m too tall for this!” Shane clutches onto Ryan’s buff shoulders. Wow, he’s really been hitting the gym. “We’ll tip over.” 

Ryan easily capitulates and sets him back down on solid ground, still hugging him close and beaming up at him. Shane shakes the dizzy out and manages a genuine smile. How can he not, with Ryan looking at him like that? 

“I did it,” Ryan says proudly. 

“Knew you would. They’d be idiots to not have you in their little club.” 

Shane ruffles Ryan’s hair, making him lean into the touch and preen at the attention. 

“All thanks to you, really,” Ryan says. “You were the one that vouched for me.” 

“No, no. You did all the hard work yourself. All that pledge stuff, with the events and the hazing and all that. You did that, buddy.” 

“Still.” Ryan goes up on his toes to smack a kiss on Shane’s lips. “You supported me a lot throughout the whole process. And I appreciate it.” 

“It was nothing,” Shane lies, even though in reality it was a lot of work, running around to help out at all the fundraisers and prank wars and keggers. He just didn’t mind doing it, because it helped Ryan out, and being thanked for things he would’ve done anyway always makes him uncomfortable. 

But Ryan looks up at him with a knowing look in his eyes. “Man, it really wasn’t. It meant a lot to me.” Ryan pauses. _"You_ mean a lot to me.” 

That stuns Shane speechless. 

“In fact,” Ryan continues, knowing look shifting into a hooded smirk. “Why don’t I show you how much?” 

Good thing Shane’s already in his pajamas and doesn’t have to fool around with any goddamn buttons, because he knows where this is about to go. 

Straight to pound town, baby. 

“Uhh, if that’s, uh, what you want to do, then, hmm, by all means.” 

“Sure do, big guy.” Ryan picks him up like it’s nothing again and places him on the bed, before tearing his own shirt off. Shane quickly follows suit, throwing it in a pile with Ryan’s. 

“Lift your hips.” 

Shane does as he says. Ryan tugs off Shane’s pajama pants and underwear with ease, tossing them on the floor behind him. 

Then, Ryan’s kneeling on the floor between Shane’s long legs. He squeezes Shane’s thighs as he pulls him to the edge of the bed, mouthing at random spots up Shane’s leg as he makes his way up to the crotch. 

“Ryan,” Shane groans, hands falling naturally into Ryan’s soft hair where they belong. 

He breathes on Shane’s hardening cock. 

“I’m gonna go slow,” Ryan warns, every word hitting Shane’s cock with a puff of air. “Really try to make it last.” 

“Jesus,” Shane hisses, and clenches his eyes shut. “Okay.” 

Then Ryan laves his tongue over the vein, trailing from the base up to the top. 

“Or,” Ryan says speculatively. “I could just try to make you come as fast as possible.” 

“Hnnngah,” Shane manages, which makes Ryan smile. 

“Looks like we’ve got a winner.” Without waiting another second, Ryan sinks his mouth down onto Shane’s cock until it hits the back of his throat. 

He holds himself there, breathing shallowly through his nose. 

Shane groans. “Ryyy…” 

Then Ryan dips forward, letting the head of Shane’s cock slip deep down his throat as he swallows. 

“Fffuck!” Shane’s fingers spasm in Ryan’s hair, as he wills himself not to move his hips. It gets harder and harder to do that, though, as Ryan repeats the motion over and over again. Over the past few months, Ryan has gotten _really_ fucking good at blowjobs, and right now, he’s showing off. 

Shane’s groans and exclamations quickly devolve into wordless cries, punched out of his chest like Ryan’s forcing them out with every movement. 

It’s really not long at all until Shane’s back arches up, and he’s coming down Ryan’s throat. As he twitches through the shockwaves, Ryan milks every last drop out of him by continuing to bob his head until nothing is left. 

Shane’s body sinks back into the bed, heavy with sudden lassitude. His hands go gentle, caressing through Ryan’s hair. 

That’s when Ryan pulls off, wiping the drool from his chin. 

“Set a new record, I think,” he says hoarsely. 

“Yeah, probably.” Shane leans down to kiss him, hands still running affectionately through his hair. “You got me down to a science, little guy. You’re goddamn amazing at that.” 

Ryan puffs up at the praise. 

Shane chuckles, letting go and scooting back on the bed to make room. “Take those basketball shorts off and get up here already.” 

Ryan rolls off his knees onto his feet and strips the rest of the way, watching Shane watch him as he drops his shorts and underwear to reveal his hard cock. 

“C’mere,” Shane cajoles, and Ryan clambers up on the bed with him without a second thought. Shane takes a long moment just to kiss him, tasting the come and dick with every swipe of his tongue. “Mmm. What do you want?” 

“I want - ” Ryan falters as Shane gets a loose hand around him, and starts stroking. “I want your mouth, everywhere.” 

“Gladly.” 

One oral body worship, coming right up. 

Shane gives him one last kiss on the mouth, before he moves down to map the skin of Ryan’s neck. He lets go of Ryan’s cock, focusing solely on the sensation of kissing and biting down the inches of Ryan’s golden brown skin. He passes the collarbone with a sharper bite, just to hear Ryan make a tiny noise, before making his way down the pec towards his first goal - Ryan’s nipple. It’s already pebbled, like it always is once Ryan’s fully hard. And Shane knows for a fact that it’s practically a livewire to Ryan’s nervous system. 

He smooths the flat of his tongue over the nipple, sending a shiver through Ryan’s whole body. He builds the tension like that, licking methodically until Ryan’s toes are curling. Then he catches the peak in his teeth, rolling it from side to side. 

Ryan’s hands come up to grab at Shane’s shoulders as his body wracks with electric sensations. _“Shane,_ god,” he husks out. 

Shane answers by sucking the whole nipple into his mouth and humming. 

Ryan cries out, body arching up into it. _“Shane,”_ he says, when he’s got his breath back. “If I’ve got you down to a science, then you’ve got me down to fucking - atoms.” 

Shane looks up and raises an eyebrow. “Atoms?” he says with a smile. 

“Fuck you, you know what I - _ah!”_ Ryan shuts his eyes as Shane goes to work on his other nipple, giving it a long, flat lick. “What I mean. Know me inside and out. Better’n I do. Down to my - molecules, or something.” 

“Love it when we talk science in the bedroom,” Shane remarks. “Ooh, baby, hit me with more of that particle physics. You know I’m into those protons and electrons.” 

Ryan fights off a grin. “Shut up, Shane.” 

“You got it.” He gets back to work, laving his tongue worshipfully over Ryan’s sensitive nipple while bringing a hand up to pinch and roll the other one. 

Ryan groans, his hips starting to jerk up into the air. 

Jesus. Shane will never get over how hot Ryan is like this. He’s so _sensitive._

So sensitive, that if he wants to get his mouth on Ryan’s dick before he comes, he’s got to hurry this up. He licks at Ryan’s nipple a few more times, sucking and biting at the tender peak, before withdrawing. 

“Mmm, yeah,” Ryan breathes, as Shane eases off the nipples and starts moving down his impressive abs. “Fuck, Shane.” 

Shane bites at the V between Ryan’s hip and torso with the air of finality, before drawing up. 

“Ready?” he asks, eyes flicking up to catch Ryan’s. 

“Please,” Ryan begs brokenly. “I want it, I want your mouth on me.” 

“Anything you want, baby,” Shane says, and obediently goes down on Ryan’s sweet cock. 

“Aahmm,” Ryan groans, and Shane can feel the noise rumble through him. He bobs up and down, feeling Ryan get closer and closer to the edge with every duck of his head, tensing like a bowstring. 

When Ryan’s legs start to shake, Shane sucks hard and plucks at that taut string with a measured press of his finger to the outside of Ryan’s hole. Then again, and again, and again. 

Until Ryan is bursting into Shane’s mouth, moaning loudly enough that Shane’s neighbors probably hear it. 

“Fuck, Shane, _Shane_ \- ” 

Shane hums around him, which cuts off Ryan’s moan into a gurgle. 

“Shane,” Ryan says hoarsely, as his twitching body finally stills. “I love you.” 

Shane pulls off him with a pop and licks at the string of come hanging out of the corner of his mouth. “Love you too, Ry.” 

He bends down to capture Ryan’s mouth in a long, drawn-out kiss. Then he leans back on his haunches. “Gonna clean up,” he says cheerfully, rising up off the bed. 

“Mmhmm,” Ryan says, closing his eyes and lying there like the dead. 

Shane pads over to the sink, and rinses his mouth. He grabs a towel and pats his face dry when he’s finished. 

“Hey, baby,” Shane says quietly when he lumbers back over to the bed. “Got room for one more?” 

Ryan cracks an eye open. “Maybe,” he says with a lazy grin before shuffling over to the side. 

Shane fits himself next to him, lying on his back and snaking an arm underneath Ryan’s head to cover his shoulders. Ryan instantly latches on to him, turning in and cuddling into Shane’s body. He nuzzles his cheek into Shane’s pec, and brings a hand up to Shane’s chest. 

As always, Shane can’t help but melt at the easy affection, letting out a satisfied hum. Ryan hums back, just as satisfied. Then they fall into silence, just enjoying each other’s closeness, drunk on the feeling of skin against skin. 

Ryan traces idle circles on the bare skin of Shane’s chest, kicking up sparks in the wake of his finger. 

“Hey, Shane,” Ryan says, hushed. “Since I’m gonna be moving into the Delta Gamma house next semester...” 

Shane hums, focusing more on the sensation of Ryan’s magic fingers than the words he’s saying. 

“...Would you wanna move into the house with me?” 

Shane’s eyes spring open. “Into… the Delta house?” Shane asks, turning to look at him with confusion. 

Ryan shys away a little from Shane’s direct gaze. His gentle fingers turn fidgety. “I mean, I’d have to ask for permission from the guys, and stuff, but, I figured I’d ask you first. Before going and doing that.” 

When Shane doesn’t say anything, Ryan glances up at him and then away. His hand retracts back to his side. “It’s - pretty cheap, living there, and I figured, you know, we spend basically every night together anyway, and why not just, um, make it official, and maybe you could save on rent for a semester, see if you liked it.” 

“See if I like living in a frathouse,” Shane says with an incredulous smile. He can’t be serious right now. This is a joke. “Me.” 

“Well… yeah.” 

There’s not even a hint of a smile on Ryan’s face. Just nervousness. 

Huh. He is being serious. 

Shane laughs, discomfited. “Ryan, just because I’m dating you doesn’t mean I like all things frat. And, uh, I can definitely tell you now, if I had to make a list of the things I did like, living in a frathouse wouldn’t be one of them.” 

Ryan doesn’t say anything, so Shane keeps going, on a roll now. 

“I know you and everybody else thinks, oh, Shane, he’s basically a Delta, and everything. But the thing is, I’m really, really not. Not even a little bit.” Him, a total nerd, living in the Delta Gamma mansion. Shane snorts at the ridiculousness of the notion. His small incredulous smile builds into a full-on sneer. “I mean, first off, like they’d ever let me live there. Members only, and all that. Look what _you_ had to go through to get a room there. Gotta get hazed for at least a semester to be allowed the great privilege of renting a shitty room in a shitty house, right? But second? Why would I even want to? I mean - ” 

Then Shane sees the shuttered look in Ryan’s eyes. 

His sneer drops. 

“Yeah, why would you,” Ryan repeats, almost robotically. He gets up, crawling over Shane, and mechanically goes through the motions of retrieving all his clothes from the floor and putting them back on, a piece at a time. “Because shitty frats are shitty. Got it.” 

“Ryan,” Shane says, reaching out with an uncertain hand, already missing Ryan’s warm body curled up next to his. He’s clearly fucked up, in a major way. “Don’t - come back, you don’t have to leave. I’m - I didn’t mean to say it like that. It’s, I’m - I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to apologize for,” Ryan says stiffly, throwing on his shirt. “You’re right, after all.” 

“Ryan,” Shane tries again, but Ryan avoids his eyes, grabs his wallet and phone from the floor, and hightails it out of the room. 

The door shuts with a click and a muttered, “See you later,” and then Ryan is gone. 

Leaving Shane, half-sitting up in bed, gobsmacked. 

Welp. That’s just great. 

Now Shane feels like absolute shit. 

-

At a loss for what to do, and aching from waking up next to the Ryan-shaped empty space in his bed the next morning, Shane figures he has to call in an expert. He texts Andrew to meet up around ten. 

_Food and relationship help? I’m desperate._

_Fine,_ Andrew texts back. _But not until actual lunchtime. I’m not doing brunch. You know how I feel about brunch._

Yeah, Shane knows Andrew’s feelings on brunch a little too well. 

They sit down in the student cafeteria at 12:30 pm, way past brunch time and well into lunchtime. Andrew eats his chicken and potatoes as Shane spills all the relevant details of last night’s fight. 

“And then he said there was nothing to apologize for, and that I was right, and then he left,” Shane finishes. He hunches over his tray full of food with his arms crossed, suddenly not hungry at all. “So, what do I do now? I already tried to apologize, that didn’t work, and now I feel like total shit.” 

“Hmm.” Andrew spears a crumpled green bean with a fork, and munches on it as he thinks it over. “Let me get some things straight first.” 

“Okay, shoot.” 

“First - do you want to move in with Ryan, or don’t you?” 

Shane rolls his eyes. “Of _course_ I’d want to move in with Ryan. We basically already live together anyway. But not if he’s in a fucking frathouse. I’m not even in the frat!” 

“Okay, then. Tell him that. Second thing.” Andrew points his fork at Shane. “You’re sure you’re not in the frat? A hundred percent sure? Because to an outside observer like me, it kind of seems like you are.” 

“No, no, I’m _definitely_ not in the frat, I just date a fratboy,” Shane says, waving a dismissive hand. “Totally different thing.” 

“Yet you go to all the frattie parties. And help take down the frattie nemesis. And support all the frattie fundraising initiatives.” Andrew gives him a dry look. “I know you’re supporting your boyfriend by doing those things. But Shane. You do realize you’re probably doing more for the frat than an average member at this point, right?” 

“So?” Shane grouses. “I’m still not in it. Haven’t pledged, haven’t been initiated. And I refuse to. Hazing is not something I’m willing to put up with. It’s a stupid practice that I refuse to engage in.” 

“That’s fair, I guess. Hazing is the most ridiculous shit ever, and that’s including brunch. And you know how I feel about brunch.” Andrew thinks for a moment, before sighing and shaking his head. “I just feel like you’re remarkably resistant to the idea of being in a frat, even though you’re practically already in one. It’s weird. Like last semester, all over again.” 

Last semester, when he was possessed by the actual living spirit of the frattiest fratboy to ever frat? Shane frowns. How could any of this possibly remind Andrew of _that?_

“What do you mean?” 

Andrew shrugs, sipping his Dr Pepper. “It just feels like we’re back to you being weird about frats, again. But this time, there’s some snobby hangup you’ve got about it. Like you’re too cool to ever be in one.” 

“I - I don’t have a...” 

He doesn’t finish the sentence, though. Because now that he thinks about it, Shane… can’t deny it. He _does_ have a snobby hangup. He’s more than alright with people who are in frats, now, even loves one of them, but he’s definitely not alright with actually being one of them. Any time Ryan or anyone else has even hinted at him being a Delta, he’s immediately shot that down, with extreme prejudice. 

“Hmm. Maybe I do.” 

Andrew looks at him keenly. “Maybe you should reconsider that hangup, if you’re going to keep seriously dating Ryan. He’s pretty invested in the whole Greek life thing. Being a pretentious dick about it seems like a pretty surefire way to make Ryan kill things off.” 

Shane blanches. 

Damn. Even the theoretical possibility of Ryan breaking up with him hurts. 

Shane looks down at his sad, overcooked steak and asparagus. “You think he’ll - ?” 

“I’m not saying he’s gonna break up with you today,” Andrew cuts in with raised hands. “He’s obviously pretty committed to you. I’m just saying, Ryan clearly isn’t crazy about you shitting on frats. If you want to keep this thing going, you’re going to need to get over that. And probably accept that you’re basically in one of them.” 

Shane closes his eyes, and concedes. As always, Andrew’s hit the nail on the head. 

He was an asshole, and needs to make this right. If it’ll take that horrible, blank look in Ryan’s eyes away, then… fine. Shane can swallow his pride. 

“Fine,” he finally says, grumpily. “Fine. You’re right. I’ll get over the hangup. Be at one with my… inner frattiness, I guess.” 

“Mazel tov,” Andrew says, and from the glint in his eye Shane knows he’s about to hit him with another one of his puns. Andrew leans forward with his fingers folded together, like he’s about to deliver wisdom. “Over the hangup, and up into... the hang _over.”_

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Get it? Because you’ll be a full-on fratboy. Who has hangovers.” 

“Terrible,” Shane finally says, pointing his knife across the table. “Awful. Disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourself.” 

Andrew grins, and bats the knife away. “Okay, not my best. Still. Good, right?” 

“Not good,” Shane says, trying to keep the corners of his lips from turning up. “Not good at all. Boos and hisses all around.” 

“What’s that? Coos and kisses all around? Sign me up.” 

Shane’s mostly straight face cracks, and he can’t help but chuckle. 

“Hah! Gotcha that time.” 

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Shane says loftily, finally picking up his fork and going to town on his steak and asparagus. He’s got to stock up on calories. 

This is going to go well. He’ll explain himself properly to Ryan, tell him about how he’s going to work to be better about the frat thing, and maybe even admit he’s basically a Delta. Then Ryan will understand, forgive him, and maybe even give him a huge kiss. 

Yeah. 

He’s got this. 

-

Yeah… 

He don’t got this. 

Shane is nervously twisting his hands, sitting on the futon in Ryan’s apartment. Ryan is sitting next to him, but they’re both looking off in different directions. Usually, being in the same room together is like falling into a total takeover of the senses, where they’re both completely hooked on every move the other makes, hypnotized by their smile, their joke, their aura. The absence of that immediate and intoxicating feeling is jarring. 

Shane wasn’t really worried about it before, but sitting here now, stuck in this awkward silence, he’s absolutely fucking _terrified_ that Ryan is about to break up with him. 

Unfortunately, the stress of it is gumming up his throat, and Shane can’t seem to think of anything to say that would start this off right. 

He bows his head, and takes the leap. 

“Ryan… Can we talk?” 

“Sure.” But Ryan doesn’t say anything. 

“Okay.” Shane is really floundering here. Usually, Ryan is right there with him, meeting him halfway on everything. He never has to pick his words carefully, or be afraid he’ll be misunderstood because of his awkward wording. 

Not this time. 

“Could you… Tell me what you’re thinking? Where you’re at?” Shane glances over at him, but quickly away. Ryan’s face is blank, blanker than blank, and Shane can’t seem to look at it for long without the sight of it stabbing him somewhere in the chest. 

“What I’m thinking? Sure.” Ryan leans his elbows onto his thighs, and holds up his chin with a fist. “I’ve got a new theory.” 

Shane’s brows furrow. 

A theory? 

On last semester’s possession? 

_Now?_

It’s unexpected, and would seem totally tangential just going by the words. But the pointed way Ryan’s said them… Hmm. Shane doesn’t like where this is going. 

“Uh… okay.” 

“You wanna hear it?” Ryan doesn’t wait for an answer, just barrels on through with his teeth harshly bared in the semblance of a smile. “My new theory is that you were right. It was just random. No soulmates involved.” 

Shane’s jaw drops. 

After months - _months_ \- of arguing the point, where Ryan was on the side of soulmates and Shane was firmly on the side of not-soulmates, Shane never actually thought Ryan would come over to his side. In fact, it had been a cute point of contention, because what the soulmate theory really meant was that Ryan loved him. That Ryan believed they would be together forever. That they would always be meant to meet, and that nothing could tear them apart. 

Somehow, it hurts a lot more than Shane ever thought it would, Ryan finally agreeing with him on soulmates. 

And now, of all times? 

When the tension is so thick in the room it hurts? When Shane is scared out of his mind that Ryan might break up with him? 

Yeah, it cuts _deep._

“You...” Shane turns away, to hide the hurt look on his face just as Ryan turns toward him. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Maybe I do.” 

“You - ” Shane covers his mouth with a hand, and feels tears dredging up at the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t been prepared for this sort of bombshell. He’d thought they’d had a mid-range couples fight, where he would just have to properly explain himself, apologize profusely, and everything would be fine again. But this? This fracture is way bigger than he’d thought. This could literally tear them apart. _“Fuck.”_ He wipes at his eyes with a quick hand, and doesn’t dare look at Ryan. He’s not sure what he’ll see. 

There’s a stilted, aborted movement, out of the corner of his eye, but Shane firmly keeps his eyes glued to the far corner of the room. 

He takes a stuttering breath, willing the hot tears to go fuck themselves, and says, 

“W-well, you know what? Maybe - maybe I was wrong, and you were right.” 

Shane can feel Ryan’s stare practically drilling holes in him. 

“What?” Ryan asks quietly. 

“Maybe - maybe not the instant soulmates you were talking about. But you know what I think? I think...” Shane falters. He’s never really done this sort of thing. This brutally honest, talking-about-your-deepest-feelings thing. It’s scary as hell. 

He looks over at Ryan, who’s got a pained, shocked look on his face, and a hand frozen in the air, right above Shane’s shoulder. 

Shane’s gaze flickers to the hand and back up to Ryan’s conflicted eyes, and feels suddenly emboldened. Ryan had reached out to comfort him, like he couldn’t help himself, even when he was angry at him. 

“I think soulmates are made, not just - random deep connections out of nowhere. I think they take work, and time, and sometimes can be hard to keep solid. Just like any relationship.” Shane steels himself. “And I think that’s us, or could be us. Together. Soulmates.” 

“Shane,” Ryan says, astonished. Then his voice goes small. “...Seriously? Do you mean it?” 

“...Yeah.” 

The hand that was wavering in the air finally touches down comfortingly on Shane’s shoulder. Ryan picks up Shane’s hand, too, and twines their fingers together. 

They sit together quietly, for a moment. 

Then Ryan says, “Can I tell you something?” 

“Anything,” Shane says, filled with a sudden relief. Finally, the conversation is going in the direction he came here for. 

“So...” Ryan hesitates. “The soulmate thing… I may have lied.” 

Shane blinks. 

“You _lied?”_

“God, I’m sorry, Shane, I just...” Ryan winces regretfully. “I just felt so hurt, and I wanted you to hurt, too, and I just - I didn’t mean it. I really do still think we’re soulmates.” 

“Ha!” The relieved laugh that bursts out of Shane’s mouth surprises both Ryan and him, so he claps a hand over his mouth, far too late. Sheepishly, he takes it off. “Um, good. It’s good. That you - that you think that. I’m… glad.” 

Ryan smiles at him warmly. 

Shane glances down at the hand in his. If any time was the time for an honest apology, this is it. He bites his lip. “And… I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry for what?” Ryan says patiently. 

“For - ” Shane waves his free hand, as if to say, _all of it?_ But he knows he can’t say that. He needs to be specific. Nothing’s worse than a half-assed cover-all apology. “For hurting you. With what I said, and how I said it.” 

He glances over, and Ryan’s right there with him, squeezing his hand encouragingly. Shane breathes out a sigh. 

“For calling your frat shitty. It’s not shitty. You know that I know it’s not shitty. The guys are great, and the mansion’s actually pretty cool all around.” 

“I know.” Ryan looks pensive, now. “Why _did_ you say those things, though? That’s the part I’ve been trying to understand.” 

Shane looks down at his shoes. His free hand tightens nervously around his knee. “I’m - it’s hard, for me. This kind of thing. I’m not - good, with words.” 

“I know,” Ryan whispers. “Could you try, though?” 

Shane shuts his eyes. His body curls over like he has a stomachache, smarting at the mere possibility he’ll have to bare his soul a second time in the same afternoon. 

But Ryan is asking him. He has to. 

“Okay, fine. Okay,” Shane says, rubbing his hand over his face. “Where do I even... Um...” 

When ten seconds of silence go by, Ryan takes pity on him and prompts, “Why did it make you so angry? Me asking you to move in together.” 

Shane’s eyebrows fly up, because that interpretation couldn’t be more _wrong._ He frantically covers Ryan’s hand holding his with his other hand, and looks at Ryan imploringly. “It didn’t! It didn’t make me angry. I would love to move in with you. The angry part wasn’t about that. At all. It was...” He trails off, frowning. “Hmm.” 

Ryan waits him out, this time. Which is good, because Shane is piecing things together, bit by bit, and he’s grateful for Ryan’s sudden infinite patience with his emotional dumbassery. 

“I didn’t want to move into the frathouse.” Shane pauses, because epiphanies are unfolding in his mind at a pretty quick rate and he doesn’t want to stumble over any of them. This is too important. “I didn’t want to move into the frathouse, because I’m not in the frat.” 

Ryan frowns. “But - ” 

Shane holds up a finger, and Ryan goes quiet. 

“I’m not in the frat. So… I don’t belong.” Shane shrugs self-consciously. “I know I said a lot of it was because of - the hazing, or whatever, and that’s partly true. I’m too damn old and tired to go through a bunch of shitty bullying again.” 

Ryan shifts, his hand on Shane’s tightening. 

Ah, that’s right. Shane’s never told him about the bullying. He’s not one to talk about painful things. He likes to keep them in the past, where they belong. But it’s not the point, right now. 

“But - that’s not the biggest reason. I just...” Shane sighs. Here’s the painful, honest truth. “I know I’m friends with a lot of the brothers, and they like me, and I’m dating you, and they might say it’s okay for me to move in and all that. But in the back of my mind, I’d know that I wasn’t really a part of the group. I’d always be the awkward one that’s just hanging around when nobody really wants him there. I’d be the nerd, encroaching on the territory. And maybe for a while, they’d put up with me, but after some time went by, in their heart of hearts, I know they’d just get bored and wish I’d leave. And even if it never happened, I would be on tenterhooks the entire time, waiting for it. Because I wouldn’t feel… included. Not fully.” 

He looks at Ryan, willing him to understand. This is Shane. Pathetic, loser Shane. The insecure loner one from middle school. The one he’s been hiding, this whole time. 

“And wherever I live, I want to feel like I belong there. I want to feel like the people around me want me there, no matter what. I want...” Shane lowers his gaze to somewhere around Ryan’s collarbones. “I want to live somewhere and feel the way I feel when I’m with you. Like I belong. Like I’m home.” 

“Jesus, Shane,” Ryan says, like his heart is breaking. “I didn’t _know.”_

“I know you didn’t,” Shane says calmly. “I didn’t tell you. I wouldn’t - I wouldn’t want you to...” 

“To feel bad about it?” Ryan finishes. 

“Yeah.” 

Shane is feeling kind of stupid, now. If he’d have pieced this all together earlier, and talked to Ryan about all this baggage like an adult, then maybe they’d never have fought in the first place. 

But then Ryan draws his chin to the side with a purposeful finger, and is kissing him. 

Deeply. With tongue. 

Shane forgets to feel bad about himself. 

He presses in, fully expecting Ryan to pull him back onto the futon, when suddenly Ryan isn’t kissing him anymore. In fact, he’s not there at all. 

Shane blinks his eyes open. Ryan’s up and across the room, grabbing his phone and wallet and throwing on his sneakers. 

He’s looking rushed and ecstatically happy. 

“I got to see dude about a thing,” Ryan says, his eyes shining with joy as they look at Shane still sitting on the futon with his arms held up like an idiot. “You know the drill, lock the door when you leave.” 

He darts in for a quick kiss. “I’ll explain later,” Ryan says with a grin, and then he’s practically running out the door. 

Shane… 

Is very confused. 

They... made up? He’s pretty sure they’re good? 

In any case, they’re on kissing terms again. Shane musses his hair, and flops back on the futon. 

Whatever. He’ll just talk to Ryan later. He said he’d explain, after all, and they have a ton of sex on the regular, so. Shane shouldn’t be this disappointed they’re not banging it out after their first actual fight. 

For now, he’ll just wait. 

Ryan was patient with him, so he’ll be patient with Ryan. 

-

Unfortunately, the next week goes by in a busy flurry, with finals and clubs wrapping up as the school year comes to a close, and Shane barely gets to _see_ Ryan, let alone have a long talk with him about where they stand and whatever that kiss-and-run was about. They shoot a few texts back and forth about the upcoming formal’s logistics, and they kiss as they rush by each other on the quad hurrying on to the next thing, but that’s about it. Shane has been waking up alone for too many days in a row, and barely even has the time to mope about it. 

Honestly, it’s been long enough that Shane’s resigned himself to never really knowing what that odd kiss-and-run was all about, and is just trying to move past it like it didn’t happen. At least he’s had a lot of practice in that department. 

Then, the Delta Gamma end-of-year formal rolls around. 

Shane’s trying to retie his bowtie into the stiff shirt collar of his rental tux, waiting on the street corner for his ride, when Ryan rolls up in a slick rental car. It’s blue with white racing stripes cutting down the center, the hum of the engine sounding like a purring tiger. 

Shane doesn’t know shit about cars, but damn, he’d be happy to have some sex in this one. 

Ryan pops out of the car, with sunglasses and a killer smile both shining in the Calfornian afternoon sun. He smoothes a hand down his lapel as he walks towards Shane, and fuck. 

Fuck. Shane’s eyes practically bug out of his head. 

Ryan in a tux is… something else. The accentuated lines of his body cut sharp, his shoulders and biceps practically bursting out while the thin draw of his waist curls elegantly in. Even the tux itself is gorgeous, with embroidered golden flowers twisting over the deep black fabric. Shane is feeling a little basic in his black and white penguin suit, in comparison. 

“Jesus Christ,” Shane breathes, giving up on his bowtie and letting the ends hang down, lopsided, as Ryan nears him. “Ryan, holy shit. You clean up well.” 

Ryan drags his sunglasses down his nose, just enough so Shane can see him wink. “Not so bad yourself, Madej.” 

Shane grins a little goofily, holding up the ends of his tie. “Yeah, really knockin’ em dead with this mess of a bowtie situation, huh.” 

Ryan tuts, and slips his sunglasses into his patch pocket along the embroidered pocket square. “Hey, don’t say that. Undone bowties are sexy as hell. Here, look.” 

He reaches up to grab the lopsided ends of the tie, and _yanks._

Caught off guard, Shane’s upper body jerks right into Ryan’s personal space, and all of a sudden, they’re breathing the same air, their eyes intensely locked together. Maybe it’s the shock of it, maybe it’s the fact they haven’t had sex in over a week, maybe it’s the assured, matter-of-fact way Ryan just moved him where he wanted him, but Shane’s breath stutters in his chest with how much he abruptly _wants._

“See?” Ryan’s eyes are heated, and his voice is low. “Sexy.” 

His lips sear like fire on Shane’s mouth when Ryan leans in to steal a kiss. 

“Yeah,” Shane manages, somehow, after Ryan leans back with a satisfied smirk. “Sexy.” 

Point made. 

“Now let me see,” Ryan says, his voice returning to his normal register and his eyes flicking down to the tie in his hands, as if he hadn’t just lit the insides of Shane on actual _fire_ with lust and indescribable yearning. “We learned how to tie these in Bro-tie Bootcamp, but I was kind of hungover at the time, so...” 

Ryan’s brows furrow in concentration as he meticulously knots the bowtie together, looping and pinching the silk in bizarre and curious ways Shane can’t hope to follow along with, let alone replicate. Instead, Shane keeps his gaze on Ryan, eating as much up as he can in this surprisingly intimate moment. The twitch of his fingers, the narrowing of his eyes, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth. Shane’s already so in love it hurts, and here Ryan is, making it worse with his stupid handsome face all screwed up like he’s solving a Rubix Cube instead of tying a bowtie. 

As he looks at him, Shane feels a crazy, unbidden drive building to do something to _move_ Ryan, in the way Ryan is moving him - something intimate, something so inescapably romantic, that it fries Ryan’s brain a little. He can’t be the only one feeling this way - he’s got to return the favor somehow. 

Finally, Ryan tugs the ends of the tie out into a small bow. He eyes it for a moment, before shaking his head and delicately readjusting it until he’s satisfied the bow is even. 

“There,” Ryan says with a firm nod. “That’ll do.” 

His hands withdraw from Shane’s neck, but before they’re completely gone, Shane catches his wrists. 

Ryan’s eyes flick up to meet Shane’s in a silent question. 

Shane answer is equally silent. He brings Ryan’s strong, calloused hands up to his mouth, and carefully kisses his knuckles like some old movie star, maintaining eye contact the whole time. He’s pleased to hear Ryan’s breath hitch at the touch. 

Shane licks his lips and opens his mouth, and he knows Ryan is gonna hang on every word. 

Better make them count. 

“You gonna take me for a ride tonight, baby?” Shane waggles his eyebrows to Ryan’s startled guffaw. “Right on the leather interior?” 

“Shut _up,_ Shane,” Ryan laughs, trying to fight down a bright smile as he pulls his hands away. “No sex in rental suits or rental cars allowed, no matter how sexy they are. Now hop in the ‘Vette, we got a shindig to get to and a scenic route to take.” 

“Ooh, a scenic route?” Shane knows Ryan usually hates taking longer than absolutely necessary on any form of transportation, anywhere. He’s usually a stickler about efficiency and safety, and crabs any time he has to take any sort of detour for anything. Shane is convinced it has something to do with Ryan’s car accident, but that’s unconfirmed. In any case, this little drive is obviously some sort of gift for Shane, specifically. “Which way are we taking?” 

“Oceanside,” Ryan says proudly, taking his sunglasses out and setting them back up on his nose with a flourish, like he knows how much Shane is already vibrating with excitement over the idea. 

“I may swoon,” Shane warns, putting the back of his hand up to his forehead and leaning back like a silver screen leading lady. “This amount of romance is a lot for little old me to take, you know.” 

“I’ll catch you,” Ryan says easily, the smooth bastard, fitting the words to action as he puts a bracing hand at the small of Shane’s back to guide him to the passenger side door. “Now get in the car, slowpoke, we’ve got places to be.” 

“Alright, already. I’m going.” 

Once Shane’s adjusted his seat and they’re both buckled in, they grin at each other. One thing’s for sure, Shane thinks as Ryan shifts into drive and pulls off the curb towards the highway in a burst of speed. The second they’re out of these fancy clothes and this fancy car, they are _banging._ It is on like Donkey Kong. It’s gonna be fantastic. 

The windows are rolled down, the music is blasting, and the sun is shining as they drive a little too fast down the winding Malibu coastline. 

Ryan’s got his hands on the wheel at 10 and 2, like he always does, but he’s smiling and his shoulders are relaxed back into the seat, which he never does while driving. 

“This is a Corvette Stingray,” he says as Shane watches him deftly maneuver a bend in the road. “I looked it up. Racecar. Made in 2014, sold for around fifty thousand bucks.” 

“Expensive,” Shane notes. “My first car was two thousand. Annabelle was a hunk of junk, but she had a heart of gold under the rusted exterior.” 

“I’m sure she did.” Ryan’s smile is so warm. “My first car was a hand-me-down. Didn’t pay anything for it, unless you count all the service and repairs whenever it broke down somehow. And let me tell you, that piece of shit was always breaking down. But I loved it. Cried when we had to scrap it, in the end.” 

He’s quiet for a minute, and Shane watches him watch the road, the ocean and wide sky floating by behind him as they drive. 

He’s beautiful. Sometimes Shane forgets just how beautiful he is. But with the sun on his face and the wind in his hair, Ryan literally takes Shane’s breath away. Add in the excellent surrounding scenery, and Shane is beyond happy to be here. 

“You haven’t asked where we’re going,” Ryan finally says. “Aren’t you curious?” 

“I don’t care,” Shane says with a shrug. “Driving oceanside with you? Sign me up, baby. I won’t even read the fine print.” 

Ryan huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah, same here.” He glances over, for a moment, and his eyes go pensive. Then he’s back to hawking the lane lines. 

Shane… doesn’t know what that look means. His eyebrows draw together. 

“You alright, Ry?” he asks. 

Ryan chuckles, a little faster than normal. “I’m alright, I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. I just want this to be - to be...” 

“Perfect,” Shane finishes, nodding along. “Okay. I get that. Just so you know, peanut gallery chiming off here, it’s already pretty perfect, at least from where I’m sitting.” 

Ryan shoots him a thankful grin. “Well, so far so good, then. Hopefully the rest is just as good.” 

A few miles down the highway, they pull over to a large, open ridge on the side of the road, covered in gravel. Ryan drives down the gravel until the ridge emerges into a vista, a dazzling panorama of the sky and sea. He puts the car into park, and turns off the engine. 

“We’re here,” Ryan says, and gets out before Shane can ask where here is. 

Shane steps out of the car and puts his hands in his pockets, just taking in the view. The vista they’ve stopped at overlooks grassy hills, rocky outcroppings, and finally, in the distance, the vast, shimmering ocean. 

They’re parked at the very edge of the vista, right before the gravel falls off into grass and shrubbery. The perfect lookout spot, if you ask Shane. He takes a seat on the curved car hood, and looks down at the waves crashing on the shore. Even from here, from what must be at least a mile away, you can hear the distant, faint sound of the waves, like a soothing murmur. 

Ryan plops down next to him, crossing his arms, surveying the landscape with that same pensive look in his eyes from before. 

“This is perfect, Ryan,” Shane rushes to assure him. “Hey, you know I’m always a slut for nature. And this flavor of nature ranks pretty high on my list. Perfect stop before the formal. You get an A plus, for sure.” 

“Thanks, Shane,” Ryan sighs, but he’s looking at his feet and digging in his pockets, and not at the landscape. “Not what I’m worried about, though.” 

Shane frowns. “Then what are you - ?” 

“Remember how I ran out, when I said I had to go talk to a guy about a thing? And that I would explain later?” 

Shane blinks. After thinking about it pretty obsessively all week, it’s safe to say he does. “Yeah, of course.” 

Ryan hesitates. “Well… it’s later.” 

Then, shock of all shocks, Ryan draws a small black velvet box out of his pocket, and Shane’s entire concept of reality fizzles out like white static on a three-channel tube TV from the 1950’s. 

It’s a small, black, velvet, _jewelry_ box. 

“Uhhhhhhh Ryan that’s a, uhhhh,” Shane dumb mouth says. “What is happening. Are you. Is this. Is this a - ” 

“It’s not a proposal!” Ryan hurries to say. Then he makes a face. “Well, it’s - complicated. Here. Just… take a look.” 

He holds out the box towards Shane, who gamely takes it and pops it open. 

Inside isn’t a ring. 

It’s… a gold pin. With small Greek lettering embossed on it. 

“Delta Gamma,” Shane reads, squinting to make out the practically microscopic design. “And it’s got a tiny little… heart, engraved in it.” 

“It’s called a Lavalier pin,” Ryan explains. “Or a sweetheart pin. It’s for, um, a serious - _partner_ \- of a brother.” 

“So this means we’re going steady?” Shane peers down at the strange little pin, hiding all its strange, cultish bro secrets in its unassuming, tasteful edgework. 

Ryan gives him a lopsided grin. “That’s one part of it, yeah.” 

“What are the other parts?” 

“Hmm. Where to start.” Ryan rubs at his chin, and starts speaking slowly. Carefully. Like this is important. “Remember how you said… you would always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, with the other brothers? I think you said it was because you weren’t a part of the frat, and that would always make you feel… othered.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And that you’ll get hazed over your dead burning body in hell, so pledging is a no-go?” 

“Definitely remember the sentiment, though I don’t believe that’s how I phrased it at the time,” Shane says thoughtfully. “Really evocative imagery, though, Ry. I like it.” 

“Well...” Ryan gestures at the pin. “Essentially, this pin would mean you’d be a part of the brotherhood. You’d be an actual, sworn-in honorary member of Delta Gamma. You’d get to live in the house, you’d get to vote in the meetings, you’d get to go on all the trips, be involved in all the ceremonies - you’d be one of us. No hazing required.” 

Shane blinks rapidly, floundering with all this incredibly impossible information being thrown at him. “This - ” He goggles down at the pin. “This little thing could do all that? What the fuck? How is that even allowed? Ryan, did you hack the system?” 

“I’m in,” Ryan deadpans, before he breaks with a snort. “No, no. This lavalier thing has always been around.” 

“Hmm.” Shane studies the tiny gold marvel, and tries to sort through his sudden conflicting, churning emotions. 

_Over the hangup, up into the hangover,_ Andrew’s dumb pun repeats in his head. 

Shane tries to breathe. 

Ryan continues, “You should know, though, the fraternity actually doesn’t give these out willy nilly. Every single one has to be specially requested. And after that request gets processed, the house votes on whether or not to award the pin. And guess what?” Ryan grins broadly. “Delta Gamma voted for the Man Madej to be inducted, a hundred percent.” 

He knocks Shane’s shoulder with his own. “Everyone wanted you to join,” Ryan says softly. “Everyone there loves you. I just thought you should know that, before you make your decision.” 

Shane shakes his head, boggled. “Decision?” 

“On whether or not you’ll accept the pin,” Ryan says matter-of-factly. “I know you’ve said before that frats aren’t your thing, and I’ll totes respect it if you decide not to take it. I’ll still love you, and we’ll still be together. I won’t front, I’ll probably be sad for a little while, but I’ll understand. Greek life isn’t for everyone.” 

He pauses. “But.” 

“But?” Shane echoes. 

“But. If you do want to feel more included with the brothers, and feel less like an outsider, and maybe even move into the mansion with me next semester, all you have to do is say yes and it’s done. Oh, and you’ll probably have to do a little ceremony at some point, too. But after _that,_ it’s done. You’ll be in.” 

Shane… doesn’t know what’s happening. His ears are ringing, and all he can do is stare at the tiny golden pin in its box. He thinks he might be having too many feelings at once, and that they might be breaking his brain. 

“Ryan,” Shane says. “Ryan, this is…” 

“A lot, I know,” Ryan says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry, I feel like I bungled the whole explanation at the start, there.” 

“I think you broke me,” Shane says wonderingly. “My brain is literally not working right now. I have no idea how I’m ever going to top this.” 

“Man, I totally did this all wrong, didn’t I,” Ryan says, half to himself. “Never a good sign when you _break_ someone. Jesus. Look, you don’t have to make a decision right now. I know it’s kind of a big commitment. So if you’re overwhelmed, don’t worry about it. I just wanted to let you know that this is an option, if you want it.” 

Shane laughs a little hysterically, and reaches in the box to pluck out the pin. “Can you help me with this, I always stab myself when I put these kinds of things on.” 

Ryan sighs, rubbing at his face, clearly not listening. “God, I’m such an idiot, I should have led up to it more, given you more context, maybe waited until after the dance was over - ” 

Shane holds out the pin to him, grinning like a lunatic. “Stick the pin on the donkey, Bergara.” 

Ryan’s eyes open wide, staring at the pin in Shane’s hand. 

Then his eyes flick up to Shane’s face. 

“Go on,” Shane says, pushing the pin into Ryan’s hand. “Right on the lapel, c’mon.” 

“You...” Ryan hesitates. “You mean, you’re _sure_ you…?” 

“Ryan,” Shane says calmly. “I’m sure.” 

He pats his lapel. 

“Pin me,” he proclaims. 

Ryan’s eyes go a little watery, but he wordlessly unclasps the lavalier pin and carefully pokes it through the lapel buttonhole with a practiced hand. 

When Shane’s pinned, Ryan smoothes a hand over it, as well as the rest of Shane’s chest. He bites his lip, and then glances up at Shane. 

“Perfect,” Ryan says, his eyes shining. 

He could be talking about the pin placement, or the choice, or the evening as a whole, Shane doesn’t know, but it doesn’t matter. Shane can’t do anything but kiss him, curling a hand on Ryan’s jaw to bring him in close. 

They sit there on the hood of a Corvette in the Californian sunshine, waves gently singing in the background, kissing. It’s an eternity in a minute, a moment Shane wants to remember forever, and it’s so sweet he sighs when Ryan finally breaks away from him. 

“Love you, big guy,” Ryan says softly. 

“Love you too, little guy.” 

Ryan smiles, then checks his watch. “We’ve actually got to get moving, if we wanna make it on time to this dance.” 

Shane perks up. “Alright, let’s hit it, buster. I distinctly recall a promise I made to you about puttin’ on the ritz.” 

Ryan groans as they collect themselves back into the car and buckle in. He shoots off a quick text before setting up the directions on his phone. “Thought you’d forgotten about that.” 

“Steel trap, right here.” Shane taps his temple. 

“Uh huh,” Ryan says dryly, starting up the ignition with a rumble. “Just don’t hurt yourself, okay.” 

“Ohoho, you’re about to be blown away, my friend. Absolutely snookered with my many seductive dance moves.” 

“Sure I am, buddy. Keep telling yourself that.” 

For all Ryan rolls his eyes in the car ride over to the hotel, the second Shane spins him in an elegant twirl ending in a deep dip on the ballroom floor, he goes starry eyed. 

“Holy shit,” Ryan breathes, hands clutching at Shane’s shoulders as he hangs there, looking up at him. “You _do_ actually have moves.” 

“Told ya,” Shane says smugly, lifting him back up from the dip. “Puttin’ on the ritz for you, baby! Full stop.” 

Ryan wheezes. “Lucky me.” 

Shane dips him again, just to make a point. 

Well, and to make Ryan laugh. But mostly, to make a point. 

They whip around on the floor in between the other couples, who are all immaculately dressed and smiling as they go by. 

Shane twirls Ryan out, just to see his smile flash, then twirls him back in, to feel his body snug against his chest. The truly amazing thing, in Shane’s opinion, is that whatever he does, Ryan just lets it happen - he’s totally loose, totally trusting, and so, so happy to follow his lead, and god, Shane loves him so much. 

“You like this?” Shane asks, already knowing the answer. 

“I _love_ this,” Ryan corrects with a grin. “Never knew you could move like this, big guy. Where’s all this suave debonair stuff the rest of the time?” 

Shane scoffs. “It’s all here, all day, every day, baby!” 

Ryan raises an amused eyebrow at that, and Shane dips him in response. 

“You fucker,” Ryan wheezes. “You absolute - ” 

Shane kisses him, real quick, right before he lifts him back up. 

“Fucking unreal,” Ryan laughs. “You romantic son of a bitch, I oughta - ” 

But Shane doesn’t get to find out what Ryan ‘oughta,’ because just then, the upbeat, fast-paced music fades in the middle of the song, followed by the sound of a finger tapping a microphone. 

“This on?” Luke says, standing next to the DJ booth, and a smattering of frat bros reply, “Yeah, dude,” and “It’s on,” around the room. 

“Perfect.” He shuffles a couple pieces of paper, and clears his throat. “Hear ye, hear ye, Delta Gammas.” 

“We so hear,” every Delta in the large ballroom chants in unison, as they shepherd their dates to their tables and take their seats to the sound of wooden chair legs scooting across the wooden floor. Ryan and Shane have a nice spot on the edge of the ballroom, right by the microphone, so they can see Luke just fine. 

“Now that everyone’s comfortable,” Luke continues, after all the commotion settles down. “I just wanted to say a few things, to finish off the celebration for the night. Y’know, before we finish up dancing and retire to our rooms.” 

He winks, and the room hoots and hollers. One guy does a whistle with his fingers. Shane catches eyes with Ryan and raises an eyebrow, as if to ask, _We have a room?_

Ryan just wriggles his eyebrows and smirks in response. 

“And of course, in true Delta Gamma formal fashion, if anyone wants to opt out of their room for any reason, if they have an early morning, or if they’re too drunk to consent, or anything like that, we have some designated drivers available to drive them back to campus if they should have the need.” Luke raises his glass to the designated drivers. “They’re all at Table Four by the door. Props to them.” 

“Props!” The room calls out as one, and glasses are raised to Table Four with a big round of applause. 

“Yeah, let’s hear it for them,” Luke says, just as clapping wanes down. “Now, for the big news of the night.” 

He pauses, and lets the tension build with titters and glances. Shane looks at Ryan, who just shrugs and takes a sip of water. Must not be a big deal, then. Shane looks back at Luke, who’s smiling, now. 

Shane frowns. It seems like Luke’s smiling at _him._

“Delta Gamma,” Luke says grandiosely, “is proud to announce a new member to its ranks.” 

Yeah, Luke is _definitely_ looking at him. 

The rest of the room has turned to look at him, too. 

He glances over at Ryan, who’s dropped the casual air and is smiling at him, in the sweetest way. Shane’s mouth forms an O as the penny drops. 

He looks back at Luke, whose smile has grown into a beam. 

“Shane Madej,” he says. “The Man, the Myth, the Legend. When our brother Ryan came to us to request your pin, we were ecstatic. There is no one else who we would all rather have as our collective sweetheart, and that was proven by an _unprecedented,_ nay, _historic_ unanimous vote not even two days ago.” 

Jesus, did he say _unprecedented?_ And _historic?_

A blush rises on Shane’s cheeks. Somehow, it’s starting to seem like this pin might be a bigger deal that Ryan had made it out to be. And he made it out to be a pretty damn big deal. 

“We’re thrilled that you’ve accepted us as your brothers, just as we’ve accepted you,” Luke goes on. “And no matter the time, our house doors are always open to you. You have the most generous nature, and we love you. We’d like to show you how much with a little ceremony tonight, if you don’t mind.” 

Shane runs a hand through his hair. He’s pretty sure his entire face is as red as a tomato, but his face hurts with the smile that’s splitting it. 

“Sure,” he says. “Um.” 

Ryan motions for him to get up and go over to Luke, who nods, so Shane scoots out of his chair and ambles over to the microphone. 

“Sit right over here,” Luke instructs, positioning him on a stool right next to the microphone. Shane sits obediently. 

A line of fratboys suddenly forms leading up to the mic, and every one of them is holding - wait. 

Are those roses? 

Shane’s mouth drops open. 

Yep. His eyes aren’t deceiving him. Every single fratboy in line is holding a long-stemmed rose. 

“Sorry, we didn’t know if you liked roses or not,” Luke says a little sheepishly, covering the mic with a hand to speak to Shane in an undertone. “We’ve never actually lavaliered a dude before, it’s always been women before this. Are the roses okay, man?” 

“T-totally okay,” Shane stammers out. “Um, what - what’s going on?” 

Luke smiles, relieved. “Oh, most excellent. And don’t worry. You’ll see.” 

He gestures to the first guy in line - Jace. 

Jace strolls up to the microphone with his rose in hand, leans in, and clearly enunciates, “Easy forgiveness.” 

Then he walks up to Shane and hands him the rose, with a flourish. 

“Thanks, Jace,” Shane says uncertainly. 

Jace just grins, and walks back to his seat as the next brother steps up. Brad. 

“Unconditional support,” Brad says into the mic, before walking over and giving Shane his rose. 

“Thanks, Brad.” 

Brad winks, and then the next guy goes, and the next, and the next, and the next. Each one of them says a different thing, and Shane is starting to understand that every single one of them is listing a thing that they love, specifically, about _him._

“True compassion.” 

“An honest laugh.” 

“Living without shame.” 

“Maturity.” 

“A free spirit.” 

“No ego.” 

“Constant friendliness.” 

“A good example.” 

Each one hands him a rose after they say their short piece, and with every flower, Shane feels a little more like bursting into tears. And after the line really gets going, his arms are starting to really fill up - Shane must have over fifty flowers, at this point. 

He swallows, when he sees the last person in line. 

_Ryan._

Oh god, he’s not going to make it through this without busting a few tears out, is he. 

Especially when he sees Ryan is already crying, tear tracks on his face. 

The room titters with awws and sighs when Ryan quickly runs his sleeve over his face before stepping up. 

Shane leans in. Suddenly, he’s _very_ glad Luke has been recording all of this on his phone. He’s got a feeling he’s gonna want to keep this moment forever. 

Ryan opens his mouth, then closes it. He looks over at Shane, helplessly, and Shane nods encouragingly. 

Ryan nods back, draws in a breath, and says, his voice breaking, “My soulmate, spooky or not.” 

Yeah, that’s Shane’s limit. 

As Ryan hands him his last rose, twin tears run down Shane’s face. 

“Kiss me,” Shane says seriously. “Right now.” 

He stands up from his stool, determined. 

“I swear to god, Bergara.” 

Ryan laughs, a little hysterically, and leans precariously over the vast bouquet of roses Shane’s collected to cradle his jaw. 

Shane closes his eyes, just as Ryan gives him the most tender, purposeful kiss. 

The entire ballroom _thunders_ with applause, cheers, and catcalls. 

Ryan breaks away, whispering, “I love you,” and Shane whispers it back. Neither of them can hear it, over all the noise, but they’re close enough that they can feel the breath of it on their faces, can see the mouth in front of them form the words. 

Then Ryan smiles, and goes back to his seat. 

Shane moves to follow him, but Luke stops him. “You wanna say a few words, before you go?” 

“Oh!” Shane probably should have been ready to make a little speech, now that he’s thinking of it. “Yeah. Sure, I’ll give it a try.” 

He clears his throat, and steps up to the microphone, jostling his roses. 

Shane’s never been the smooth guy. He’s always been the awkward, lanky guy, who stumbles in conversations with people he doesn’t know well. The weird nerd. 

But now… 

Now… he doesn’t feel like that guy, at all. 

“Hey, everybody,” he says. 

“Hey, Shane!” Jace hollers back at him, which makes him smile. 

“Quiet, Jace, I’m tryin’ to give a speech, here.” 

“Sorry, dude.” 

Shane sighs theatrically. The crowd of fratboys and their dates laughs. 

“No harm, no foul,” Shane says, then pauses. “You know, I… I never thought I’d ever have something like this. I didn’t think I was, uh… cool enough, I guess. Smooth enough. I didn’t think I could fit in.” He looks up. Wills himself not to cry again. “But… Now that I have it, I feel so… proud. Proud to know you guys, proud to be myself. Even if I don’t know shit about being in a frat, I’m glad you let me into your club. Just let me know when I need to be schooled on my, erm - fratology, and all of that, and I’ll, uh, try to learn.” 

The room chuckles. 

“And you know I’m no good with words, and stuff, but… Just know that, um. Well, y’know. I love you guys, too. And, by extension, I love Delta Gamma. So, um, to close this out - ” 

Shane tilts back, raising his head up, and shouts, “Delta Gamma represent!” 

“DELTA GAMMA REPRESENT!” the entire enormous ballroom bellows back exuberantly, raising their glasses and cheering as he lets another tear escape out of the corner of his eye. It’s not like anybody has to know. 

Then the DJ fades music back in, at Luke’s direction, and Shane walks off to where Jace is beckoning him and deposits his flowers in the glass vase sitting on the table. 

“We’ll have them sent up to your room for later,” Jace tells him. “Have the petals fanned out on the bed and bath, romantic shit like that. That cool, my dude?” 

_“So_ cool,” Shane sighs. “Ryan’s gonna fucking love that.” 

“Rad,” Jace says, satisfied, and runs off to presumably go set it up with some hotel staff. 

Shane runs a finger along the soft petal of a rose, and smiles privately to himself. What a hell of a night this is turning out to be. 

Couples are collecting on the dance floor, again. It’s time to grab Ryan and get in another dance or two, before the night winds down. 

He heads back to their table, where he finds a sniffling Ryan. 

“Stop that, you’re gonna make me cry again,” Shane warns, holding out a hand. 

“I can’t _help_ it,” Ryan moans, wiping at his eyes as he takes Shane’s outstretched hand. “I’m a crier. I cry at these things.” 

“I can see that. C’mon, let’s dance. You love dancing.” 

“I do,” Ryan confesses, looking up at him with watery eyes. “I really do. I’m a sap.” 

“I know,” Shane says softly, and kisses him gently. “C’mon.” 

He pulls Ryan to the dance floor, just as the song winds down into something slower, and Louie Armstrong’s gravelly voice starts singing. Ryan throws his arms over Shane’s neck, Shane sets his hands on Ryan’s hips, and they’re slow dancing. Just stepping from side to side, swaying with the music. 

“Red roses too… I see them bloom… For me and you,” Louie Armstrong sings throatily as they float across the dance floor. “And I think to myself… What a wonderful world...” 

Shane loses himself in the moment, as the song stretches on, laying his forehead to Ryan’s, feeling his heart beat from all the places they’re pressed together. 

He’s so in love, he’s _burning_ with it. Lit up from the inside, like a star. 

“And I think to myself,” croons Louie Armstrong, as the song comes near the end. “What a wonderful… world.” 

The strings swell, Shane holds Ryan close, and yeah. 

Shane has to agree. 

The world is pretty goddamn wonderful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! An epilogue is coming soon. 
> 
> Also, I'm making this a series. why do i do this to myself lmao


	5. Epilogue

“I know you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today,” Shane says gravely to the crowd of Deltas assembled before him, spreading his arms out like a church pastor, save for the bottle of beer in his hand. 

“You didn’t gather us, we’re here for our monthly house meeting, but sure,” Ryan says dryly. 

“Shush, Ryan. Now - I have a confession to make to all of you. And an apology, I think.” 

The brothers glance amongst themselves, spread out on the plethora of furniture in the enormous living room lounge with beers in their hands. 

“What’s this all about?” Luke asks curiously. “You doing okay, Shane? You don’t want to leave the house, do you?” 

“No, of course not!” Shane waves his hands uselessly. “No, that’s - it’s wonderful, living here. The room’s great, and you guys are awesome. Though I can’t say I wouldn’t appreciate a quiet night once in awhile - but that’s not the point. The point is, I have a brother.” 

“We know, dude,” Jace says. “How’s that rad brother of yours doing anyway? You said he transferred to the East Coast?” 

“Lame,” Brad the Dad complains. “West Coast, best coast, baby!” 

“West Coast, best coast!” the rest of the Deltas chant, and raise their beers in respect before taking a long gulp. Shane takes a sip along with them, before setting his beer bottle down on the ground. 

“Okay, so. That’s - that’s the thing.” Shane twists his hands a little nervously. “My brother’s name is actually… Scott. And he’s… older than me. By a couple years.” 

Jace frowns, shaking his head. “What? But that’s, like...” 

“He’s never been to visit campus, and he’s never met any of you guys,” Shane continues. “The truth is...” 

Shane hesitates. 

Jace, Luke, and Brad are the only ones who ever really met and talked to ‘Ryan,’ and they’re the ones whose faces have gone unreadable. The rest of them just look kind of confused. 

Shane sighs. “The truth is...” 

“He was copying me,” Ryan pipes up. 

Shane blinks, and looks at him. 

“He was nervous about meeting Greeks, wanted to ‘be cool,’ or whatever, and since I was the only fratter he’d met before, he tried to act like me.” Ryan is looking back at him, with a fond smile. “Weirdo got too into character, used my name instead of his own. He’s been stressing on it _all summer,_ wanting to come clean, but he’s been too embarrassed.” 

Oh, thank god. 

Much better than the truth. 

Shane thanks his lucky stars for Ryan’s lie. He would’ve just been standing there looking like a lunatic, talking about possessions and comas and all that freaky shit. 

He tries to communicate with the power of his gaze alone that Ryan is getting it in the sack tonight in a major, major way. He thinks Ryan understands, with the way the tips of his ears turn red and his fond smile turns a little smug. 

Jace frowns, glancing between them. “That true, Shane?” he asks. 

“...Yeah.” Shane rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “It was embarrassing, and I should’ve told you right away, but I chickened out. Sorry.” 

Jace leans forward, his frown getting more pronounced. “You could’ve told me, man. I would’ve been cool with it. Everybody’s got that anxiety about something, dude - I could’ve rolled with it. Straight up, I’m just sorry you felt you couldn’t tell me.” 

“Me too, bro,” says Brad. “Though I fosho get the acting thing. Y’know, I did some of that myself my first year here. Wasn’t comfortable in my own skin yet. So I feel you, Shane. Don’t even stress.” 

“I - ” Shane doesn’t know what to say. Those are... the best reactions he could have hoped for, honestly. “Thanks, Brad. And, Jace, it really wasn’t anything to do with you, it was all me. I know you better now, and I know I can tell you anything.” 

Then he turns to Luke, who’s got his arms crossed with a blank face. 

Uh oh. 

“Luke, um.” 

Shane nervously adjusts the brim of his Julius Caesar snapback. This is more the reaction he’d expected, but it still kind of throws him for a loop. 

Ugh, he _really_ hates confrontation. 

Luke shakes his head. “I understand why you did it, but that doesn’t make it right. Lying to the brothers? That kind of behavior deserves punishment,” he declares stonily. 

Well, fuck. 

Shane doesn’t like the sound of that. 

The house goes quiet, waiting for Luke to make the final judgment. 

“Shane, your punishment is… buying tonight’s beer!” He ends in a cheer, throwing up a celebratory fist pump. 

“Whoo!” the brothers cheer with him. “Beer beer beer beer beer beer beer!” 

Shane laughs in relief. 

Luke had really gotten him, for a second there. 

“You got it,” he agrees, and cements the deal by shaking Luke’s hand. The brotherhood hoots and hollers, stomps their feet. They sure do love a good old fashioned deal-making, the Delta guys. 

Luke’s other hand comes up to grab him in a half-hug as they shake. Shane mirrors the action, and when they split, they’re both smiling. 

“Meeting adjourned!” Luke says, and another smattering of clapping breaks out as brothers start filing out of the room a few at a time, talking amongst each other. The room fills with snippets of conversations. 

Before Shane can rejoin Ryan on the sectional, though, Luke catches him by the shoulder. 

“Imma be totally upfront with you, Man Madej,” Luke says in an undertone. “I’ve known what _really_ happened for awhile.” 

Shane starts. Oh shit. Is Luke saying he knows about the possession? Did Ryan spill the beans when he was drunk off his ass? 

“Uhhh, what?” 

“Ever since I met Ryan, I knew, bro. You know what he said to me? He said, _Ry for short._ Just like you did, first time I met you. And the vibes? Practically identical.” Luke raises his eyebrows suggestively, like that on its own is proof enough. 

Shane just stares at him, bewildered. _Vibes?_

He’s... not quite sure whether Luke’s talking about spooky stuff or not. 

Luke continues, “Plus, the way you talked about him when you vouched for him, I knew there was some serious history there. You were so gone for him, man. No way you hadn’t known that boy forever, so mimicking him would’ve been a snippity snip _snap_ for you. Didn’t take much for me to connect the dots.” 

“Oh! Um.” So he _didn’t_ know about the possession. Just Shane’s raging crush. Okay then. Color rises on Shane’s cheeks. “...You got me.” 

Luke taps his temple knowingly with a finger. “I got some stuff going on, up here. Layers. Secrets. Thinking them thoughts. That real mastermind shit. You know how I am, bro.” 

“I certainly know now,” Shane laughs. “Can’t believe you knew this whole time, that’s crazy.” 

“Ha!” Luke looks pretty smug. “Yeah, I got your number, man. And my lil bro Ry’s. But fret not, my dude - I only use these powers for good.” 

“...Duly noted,” Shane says, wondering what he thinks Ryan’s number is, exactly. 

Luke laughs, and claps him on the back as he walks past him to hit up the kitchen for another beer. 

Shane shakes his head, smiling, and walks over to flop next to Ryan on the leather couch. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey yourself,” Ryan says back, sipping at his beer. 

“Thanks for the save, baby.” 

Ryan grins up at him. “Anytime.” 

He leans over and lays himself up against Shane’s side, so of course Shane can’t do anything else but sling his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. 

They sit there pressed together, comfortable just sitting there, as the thinning out Delta guys mingle around them. 

“You feel better?” Ryan asks. 

Shane thinks about it. It wasn’t really the truth, but it was pretty close, and they wouldn’t have believed in the actual truth anyway. Plus, now he doesn’t have the fear of Scott showing up unannounced for a campus visit hanging over his head. So, there’s that. 

“Yeah,” he decides. “Yeah, I do.” 

He presses a kiss to Ryan’s cheek. 

“Love you, little guy.” 

“Love you too, big guy.” 

Shane settles back into the leather plush, arm wrapped around Ryan, content. Dudes are talking around them, shooting the shit, which is so common around here that the sound fades into a comfortable white noise, like humming cicadas on an Illinois summer night. 

He thinks he might be getting used to this whole fratboy thing. 

Then Ryan says, “So, you know you gotta buy over a hundred bucks worth of beer tonight, right?” 

_“What?!”_ Shane exclaims. “Seriously?” 

Unfortunately, as it turns out, Ryan is a hundred percent serious. 

Okay, so maybe Shane’s not totally used to it. But he’s got Ryan and a whole army of fratboys like him to help him along. 

He’ll get there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the closing chapter for Modus Broperandi! I had a lot of fun with this crazy premise, even though it kind of spiraled out of my control near the end there and kept adding chapters to itself. Also: this is now a series, so there's at least one more story coming in this universe. 
> 
> PS: Big thanks to ghoultown for being a real G! Without them this would have never been written, which would have been a major bummer. No bromo tho lmao 😂 #DreamTeamRiseUp


End file.
